


Assassin's Creed: Genesis

by livelyheart



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Assassin's Creed Syndicate, F/M, Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-17 04:55:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 76,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15453789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livelyheart/pseuds/livelyheart
Summary: "Don't allow personal feelings to compromise the mission." (Post-Assassin's Creed: Syndicate)





	1. Gutter Boy

Warning & Copyright

This story is rated T for TEEN. Contains suggestive themes, violence, use of alcohol and tobacco and profanity. Content generally suitable for ages 14 and up.

"Assassin's Creed is a trademark and a copyright of Ubisoft Entertainment 2015 and an influence to  _Assassin's Creed: Genesis_ , story and original characters are copyright 2017 Livelyheart, all rights reserved."

Introduction

In 1868, twins Jacob Frye and Evie Frye brought great change to London after hiding the Shroud of Eden and killing the Templar Grand Master Starrick. As a result, London was stolen from the Templar's grasp and now overseen by the Assassin's instead. While the Blighters numbers dwindled and Rook influence increased, the economy boosted and overall, the city became much safer.

Because of this recent peace, Evie left the city a few months later with her betrothed Henry Green, to join the Indian Assassin's while Jacob remained in London as lone Master Assassin. Though Evie was reluctant to leave her brother the responsibility, Jacob promised her all would remain well and that he was to be trusted with London but he was not yet aware a new Templar was climbing the ranks rather quickly and rather strongly.

Will Jacob fulfill his promise to Evie and keep London at peace after all? Or will this new Templar ruin everything he and his sister worked so hard for?

Introducing the Whittock siblings with the classic riches to rags story. Born wealthy, everything was taken away from them at a young age because of a foolish mistake made by their father. They were forced into poverty, paving a tough future way of life. Hungry, unemployed and ill – survival was found often difficult for the family.

Oliver was the youngest brother, intelligent as ever but didn't quite understand the situation the family is in. Elizabeth was the middle child and the breadwinner of the household with a stubborn and know-it-all personality. The eldest was William, a young man filled with optimism that rooted to his naivetes. And although they seemed very different, they still had one thing in similar; they were  _Whittock's_ , a surname that was insignificant to them despite its many secrets and power.

Which is why in 1869, when the siblings individually meet Jacob Frye, the Master Assassin through random encounters, their lives take a sharp turn filled with danger and intrigue. How do the lives of the Whittock's fit together with the Master Assassin? What is truly behind their names? And with newfound revelations and partnerships, will the Whittock siblings help stop another oppression in the brewing?

* * *

**PART ONE**

_Flesh and Blood_

* * *

**1: Gutter Boy**

"Where did he run off to now?" Jacob Frye muttered under his breath as he removed his hood. Pushing back his untamed dark hair, the Assassin placed the black top hat over his head while he exited the alleyway.

Jacob entered a crowd of people heckling someone – he didn't know who but he didn't care right at that moment. Blending in was all that mattered to him. There was no doubt Jacob stood out like a sore red thumb with his nicely tailored leather coat and pants beside the poorly dressed people of Whitechapel in their dull rags. And although this borough wasn't Jacob's ideal location of an early morning stroll, he needed set aside his reluctance to wake up early and take a trip down to Whitechapel. He had to remember why he was here; to tail a man.

And not just any ordinary bloke but a high-ranking Templar named Timothy Forge.

Jacob hid the Shroud of Eden and killed Starrick with his twin sister a year ago but unfortunately for him, Templars weren't mourners. The Templars realized they were dropping like flies and they wanted to change that and multiply. Strength with numbers and whatnot. They moved past Starrick's death in a matter of months and were in a hurry to find a new leader, something Jacob was unaware of until Evie left – how convenient for him.

Forge was the highest-ranked Templar to even be considered becoming the Grand Master but only rumours surrounded this theory. So, Jacob did his research – something that was quite rare of him. Evie was the one who did it previously but since she was gone now, it was left on Jacob to do the planning which was very unlike himself. And when he did things he didn't usually do, it meant he truly believed something fishy was occurring behind the theatre curtain.

Forge was a businessman, a successful one too. He owned the largest steel manufacturing company in London – 'Forge Steel', but Jacob knew that was shoddy information. After all, it was in the bloody  _name_.

And that was all Jacob knew about Forge which was quite little. It wasn't his fault he had nobody except for the orphans to do recognizance for him.

If it were up to him, he would simply kill Forge right here and now but Evie's annoying voice served as his conscious. He knew better than to assassinate him now. Jacob wasn't 'ready' yet – whatever that meant – according to Evie and that was why tailing him today was crucial to his investigation.

But Jacob couldn't ignore the fact it  _was_ odd Forge was here. It wasn't everyday a rich businessman visited Whitechapel. It made Jacob wonder what type of business he had here.

While Jacob slowly walked through the crowd, he said, "You can run, Forge, but you can't hide."

Using his sense, he easily picked Forge out of the crowd. Forge was a rotund man with a curly moustache that appealed to his overall character. He wore an eccentric blue waistcoat and orange pants. He dressed rather strange for a rich businessman and seemed unaware his fashion choices were less than stellar.

Jacob was finally gaining distance on him since his frame became larger. Only a little closer and he would be able to listen to Forge's conversation with the unfamiliar man, tall man. Could that be his second-in-command? If he was, that would be beneficial to Jacob as he hadn't known who he was and it could be the perfect opportunity to identify him.

But just as Jacob neared Forge, a boy bumped into his shoulder and shook Jacob out of focus.

He was ready to tell the boy to watch himself but he was already walking away. Jacob couldn't even get a good look at him since his figure was covered with a cloak and a hood. The boy walked fast and wouldn't look behind his shoulder, he looked like he was in a hurry.

It wasn't until Jacob felt relatively lightweight around the hip, he realized why.

The boy took his coin pouch.

Jacob had two options. He could allow the boy take his money and continue to tail Forge  _or_  he could sprint after the boy, ultimately losing Forge.

Without a second thought, Jacob instinctively followed the robber. Let it be known his pouch was quite heavy. Jacob didn't believe in banking.

He could tail Forge another day, right? Well, it was too late now to change his mind now. Jacob's legs were already urging toward the pickpocket and he started into a sprint.

"You! Boy!" he exclaimed amidst the crowd, intending to stop the boy from moving any further. Turned out, that was a wrong decision. The robber matched Jacob's sprint. Bloody hell, he was fast.

The robber aggressively pushed curious onlookers out of his way and into Jacob's line of sight. He was trying to shake him off and he was doing a damn good job at it too. Jacob allowed his feet to carry him but oddly enough, it didn't seem that he was closing the gap between them.

The robber then turned a sharp corner and Jacob followed him through the damp alleyway. His cloak remained to stay atop his head while he was sprinting, continuing to conceal his identity. Chasing the boy felt like a past incident when he first arrived to London but at least that boy was slow. Jacob realized he should watch his pocket around Whitechapel more carefully.

After several minutes of running behind him, the robber suddenly took a turn into another alley. Jacob stopped his sprint as he lost sight of the robber. He quickly pivoted his feet, looking at every nook, corner and cranny. Few seconds later, through the corner of his eye, he saw the boy scaling the wall with great speed but Jacob knew it didn't matter. He had his gauntlet.

Jacob said, with a hint of victory in his voice, "Got you now."

Jacob smirked as he readied his Assassin gauntlet and aimed at the ledge to overlook the robber. The rope shot up and Jacob was lifted to the high building. He vaulted the roof and looked down at the climbing robber.

_Never rob an Assassin, you never know what they have up their sleeve,_ he thought with a smug look as he waited for the robber to come up since there was no way down, especially for an inexperienced free runner. But to Jacob's surprise, the robber wasn't  _inexperienced,_ in fact, the boy scaled the building halfway only to hop into a window.

_The bugger_ , Jacob thought as he climbed down to enter the same building the robber entered. Jacob couldn't possibly lose him, he was a mere thief.

There was a small hallway with ugly walls and paintings. There was a small wooden table near a door. It was possible the robber was hiding. Instantly, Jacob swung open the door, ready to catch him but the robber wasn't in there. He cursed, stepping back into the hallway and slowly walking across the creaky wooden floor, seeing the wide open adjacent window.

Jacob couldn't sense him anymore; it was like he had vanished. Where had he gone?

Placing a hand on the warm panel, he peered outside and his mouth formed a small oval.

Jacob realized the boy had run him in a circle on purpose, and now led him back to the heckling crowd, where he first stole his pouch.

Whoever the robber was, he knew his way around Whitechapel well enough to trick Jacob.

Jacob swore, "Damn it."

He was still partially in shock that the robber lost him. Lost  _him_.  _The Master Assassin of the London Brotherhood._  Especially being a  _young_ boy robbing him was ridiculous. From the robber's lean legs and slim arms, he doubted he was older than Jacob himself. And how he managed to vanish, Jacob had not one clue.

Whoever the thief was wasn't a normal one. Normal thieves were fools and reckless, poor lads who needed to make a shilling for their family. But this boy was no fool, he planned everything out. He knew where to go, examined Jacob's endurance and thought on exactly how to lose him.

The boy was strong, not to mention fast. It was very likely the robber had been scaling and sprinting for a long time. And although Jacob was angry he was bested at, he couldn't help but be impressed by the robber and he only thought of one thing;

The little rat would make a great Assassin.

/

She knew from the moment she saw him he was the one. He was the sitting duck. He was the opportunity she couldn't pass on.

He looked put together with his dark hair stuffed in a top hat and regal in his shiny black coat. She didn't spare a glance at his face although she could recognize it was likely handsome by his profile. He looked like a banker or a businessman and looked lost in Whitechapel. And with their coin pouch unprotected? She would have thought those Westminster lads learned by now.

Because when Elizabeth Whittock laid eyes on him, she knew she had hit the jackpot. She  _needed_  to pickpocket him.

He was quicker then she believed and was able chase her and scale the walls. He even had that  _gadget_ that helped him fly and onto the roof. She was impressed but didn't have time to ogle. The man had a great chance of catching her but luckily for her, he didn't.

Elizabeth praised herself for that. Quite pathetic, honestly,  _for him_. She had run him in a circle and disappeared back into the same crowd she pickpocketed him.

In fact, she could still see the man standing behind the window of the tall building, scratching his head.

He hadn't spotted Elizabeth; in fact, he didn't spare a glance at her. That was because Elizabeth untied her hair, allowing her dull locks to fall over her shoulders and removed her cloak, holding it over the pouch.

The man was looking for a mysterious young boy, not an innocent poor Whitechapel girl.

Little did he know that his thief was quite literally under his nose.


	2. Coin Pouch Girl

**2: Coin Pouch Girl**

"It is not safe for a young girl like you to be walking through Whitechapel at this time." A fellow worker informed Elizabeth while walking toward the factory's exit.

In return she said, "No need for concern, everything'll be alright." He was kind man, a worker who helped her on her first day nearly eight years ago. She appreciated his worry yet understood it was unnecessary, her trek home was safe every other night and tonight would be no different.

He seemed wary but obliged, "Be safe, Elizabeth."

"You as well." She said nonchalantly. Elizabeth was usually more polite to the man, respectful enough to say goodnight and even offer a small smile but she was immensely grumpy from her frustrating day of work.

She removed her worker's cap and slipped on the hood of her cloak as she walked out the brightly lit factory. Other children were still working, taking the overnight shift unlike Elizabeth who had finished. She nearly felt sympathy for lads but quickly remembered they were paid more than her because of their gender.

Never glancing behind her shoulder, she walked along the sidewalk. Elizabeth loudly sighed while wiping her sweaty forehead with an equally dirty forearm. Because of working with coal and ash thirteen hours a day, her skin was never clean neither her complexion fair. A coat of dirt always covered her skin. Some days she would scrub water from Thames river until her skin began to bleed and peel even though she was unable of removing the layer. She required soap which was a necessity she couldn't afford to waste money on. Elizabeth would have the new law of London to thank for that.

Bloody hell Elizabeth reeked of a horrid stench nor fail to mention was starving and deadly tired.

The Whittock sister hated that factory with every ounce of her being. Every so often, she dreamt of it burning to the ground with everyone inside except for the child labors. She dreamt of all their goods, documents and damned machines turning into ash. And for Elizabeth, today was the 'every so often'.

She even believed the day would progress well after she successfully pinched a coin pouch from an Assassin before work.

Suppose not.

Dear god, when the foreman scolded her for an hour about piling coal too loudly, Elizabeth strongly restrained herself from choking him right then and there. Piling coal too loudly. What a shoddy excuse to yell at her. It seemed he was always waiting for Elizabeth to do something wrong to peer over her shoulder for the remainder of the day. Previously, she would have allowed it but this time was strange. Elizabeth swore she felt his eyes rake her body several times. It made her paranoid enough to tell the foreman to bugger off. Obviously, she was a little more aggressive than asked for and was quite surprised when he ignored the comment.

But that didn't necessarily mean she was off the hook. He was going to make work tomorrow a living hell. All she could hope was for him to get hit by a stray carriage tonight.

Workers were never supposed to be seen or heard. That was London, the industry. The rich man was the puppeteer who controlled all the strings and when the show was over, they audience applauded the puppet master. Not the puppets, who without them the puppeteer would be nothing, irrelevant. Many were puppets in London, always controlled by someone higher than them.

Elizabeth didn't dream of being a puppet master, she just wished to cut her strings free.

Yet she knew that would never be possible. At least not in her lifetime.

Although she pickpocketed a rich Assassin, she wasn't a fool. If anyone in all of London knew the value of money, it would be the Whitechapel folks. She understood the money in the pouch would disappear yet her factory income wouldn't. The money in the pouch would drastically help her family although it was temporarily. It certainly wasn't enough for her to quit. Elizabeth was tied to that factory permanently, whether she liked it or not.

But the money in the pouch was a blessing from whatever god there was.

They desperately needed that money.

She still had not counted the amount in the pouch yet knew it was quite a bit from the weight. Elizabeth still couldn't believe what she had done. No, she did not mean stealing, she had been pickpocketing all her life that it became a style but an Assassin? She beat him at his own game and that impressed even herself.

Elizabeth hid her pouch beneath her belt. She couldn't lose it, she couldn't let it be in her fingertips and allow it to slip away. Any sticky fingers that came her way would have to wait. There were a lot of thieves around Whitechapel, herself included, who were on the lookout especially at night time. They hid in alleys, corners and waited for a victim to arrive before they ran off with their pouch. That was something Elizabeth never did. She learned the easiest way to steal from someone was to stealthily snatch it before realizing it was gone. Ironic how that wasn't even close to the events of this morning.

But it didn't matter how much was in the pouch if Elizabeth didn't make it to the shop before it closed and buy the tonic. Time was ticking and she was always listening.

He needs to tonic tonight, he may not make it to morning, Elizabeth thought as she rearranged her cloak over her body and peered down the dark alley. She could take the streets which were safe or she could take long, Castle Alley straight to the market. Time was of the essence and Elizabeth did not have much to spare.

She turned into Castle Alley. Elizabeth became accustomed to the dirty, rat-filled, grimy Whitechapel streets and had not scared her as they did before but this was not a street, it was darkly lit and eerily quiet.

Whitechapel was a pitiful excuse of a London borough. The warm and safe areas were oddly the brothels and pubs while the streets and homes were cold and dangerous. Nobody was safe in Whitechapel, no man, no woman and no child. Elizabeth knew this well, too well. Even though she was born and raised in the borough and grown a slight intimidating aura around her, did not excuse the angst feeling that crawled up her spine when alone at night.

While walking, yelling erupted from the nearby opened windows. It made her jolt slightly before realizing there was nobody else nearby. She kept her posture right and eyes forward before whispering to herself, "Grow some knickers, there ain't anyone here."

Yet it seemed she spoke too soon for she heard footsteps approaching behind her with sharp ears. Elizabeth thought nothing of it, perhaps just another man passing through the Castle Alley. But the footsteps began to stomp louder, nearing her. Perhaps he was in a hurry like herself? Yet she fastened her trek, trying to catch a glimpse at whoever was tailing her yet her hood strongly restricted her vision. She was paranoid, rightfully born to be so and placed a steady hand on the cheap dagger inside her pocket.

"Why such a hurry? Do you have someplace to be? I should not think a young girl should be taking Castle Alley alone. Why don't you allow me to accompany you, Elizabeth?"

She could recognize the nasty voice anywhere.

Elizabeth slowly pivoted her foot to face the factory foreman. He was a large man. She wished she was able of eating that much food to gain enough weight as him. The girl was thin, far too skinny to be fully healthy and to fist fight that large of a man. Underneath his curly moustache, laid a sly smirk. She did not dare to wonder why he was smirking.

She answered with a quiet but aggressive tone, "I'll be fine."

"That tone is back. You gave me a real tone back there, do you not think so? I do not like that tone Elizabeth." The foreman foot after foot, stepped closer to Elizabeth and she oddly did not step back, frozen in place. After she hadn't responded, he lifted one of his long, bony fingers and while caressing her cheek, removed the hood.

Elizabeth said, finally jolting backwards, "Don't dare touch me again." The foreman stood still and examined her face.

"Heavens, you reek of ash. When was the last time you bathed? I have a bath at my home. Perhaps underneath that dirty face of yours, you could look presentable. Never an English Rose but decent." If Elizabeth hadn't been occupied, she would dare to roll her eyes. The same ole' insults, different people. The insults didn't sting her, hell they didn't touch her. It was nothing she hadn't heard before, when people insulted Elizabeth, it always went along those lines.

"If that's all, I'll be on my way."

"Where? To that filthy little hole you and your family live in? Elizabeth, you're welcome to come with me. I've been feeling rather lonely in my large estate."

Elizabeth wouldn't consider herself intelligent but she knew a person's eyes told of their intentions. Narrowed eyes would mean they were angry, wide eyes would mean they were happy and large pupils meant shocked.

And what was in the foreman's eyes? Elizabeth didn't like the look of them.

Underneath the moonlight, lust glistened in his eyes.

She said, "I'll have to reject the offer." While saying so, she began to turn around and walk away, wanting to end the conversation but the foreman lifted a hand on her shoulder and pulled her back. Elizabeth unwillingly must admit the foreman was strong, stronger than her.

"Wait a little minute, Sweetheart," The affectionate word felt filthy on his tongue. He cynically laughed, "You are quick to refuse."

"Oh, I see what's the matter, you're in a hurry. Why ever so, to see your ill father? It's such a shame you dwell on Frank intensely. Your foolish father will deservedly die anyways. Don't be hasty, Elizabeth, I can make your time worth the while, I'll pay you. Perhaps even get yourself a prettier outfit with the money."

Elizabeth knew she should have politely refused. Elizabeth knew she should have laughed it off. Elizabeth knew she should have left.

None of which she did.

The prostitution portion of the comment didn't affect her but nobody insulted her father.

She slowly turned her head and muttered, "Say it again."

As if it were a joke, the foreman chuckled, "It seems your poor little ears need cleaning."

"And it seems your big stomach need a carving to fit through a door."

A shocked look passed across his face before saying, "Pardon me?"

"Did you not hear? Perhaps you were too focused on how you would pleasure yourself later tonight at your oh-so large estate. Tell me, sir, after your wife left you, how many times a day do you pound your flounder?"

"How dare you!"

Suddenly and too quick for Elizabeth to evade, the foreman pushed her to the brick wall and held her wrists above her shoulder. He covered her mouth with his hand to suppress an expected scream. It tasted like ash. Veins popped and fingermarks reddened upon them. She refused to struggle in his grasp instead narrowing her eyes and never losing contact.

"You are nothing. You are Whitechapel filth, you shouldn't even be alive, a waste of space. Whore, you should be honored I asked a girl like you to spend the night. I was taking pity on you and there you go, insulting me. Me."

Elizabeth's hadn't truly became scared until she realized his hand neared where her coin pouch hung. She wouldn't allow him to take it.

"You seem very interested in pleasure, Sweetheart. I'll show you pleasure." The foreman began to kiss her neck rapidly and Elizabeth choked down the vomit rising. She tried to inch away as much as possible but realized he had left her mouth uncovered to stroke her breasts.

Elizabeth saw her chance and took it. She suddenly opened her mouth and clenched on his ear with might, harshly pulling away.

He growled with a loud yell to cause nearby birds to fly away. While the foreman cupped his bloody ear in one hand, she spit out his blood and what seemed to be a piece of cartilage, onto the ground.

"You bit my ear, Bitch!"

Quickly, the foreman slapped her across the face with his backhand. Elizabeth stumbled from the hit which tingle throughout her face. She felt tears well up on the brink of her eyes but she blinked them away. Elizabeth could have ran but for some odd reason, she chose to equip her dagger instead. Elizabeth was angry and when she was angry, thoughts clouded her mind and she did the first brash thing that came to mind.

She was ready to kill this man if she had to. If she had done it before, Elizabeth could do it again. That foreman deserved to meet his maker.

Elizabeth readied her knife to protect her temples and the foreman laughed, "You want to fight? You really are daft if you think that tiny dagger will do damage."

He then kicked her in the stomach, causing to lose her wind. The dagger swung but missed. She had expected him to be strong for being large, perhaps even three of her but he was quick as well. As long as Elizabeth received a few good hits on him, she could win this battle.

While he wrestled her to the ground. The foreman tightly bound the wrist holding the dagger and twisted backwards. Elizabeth hissed in pain and tried to straighten it but didn't find the strength. She finally let go of the dagger before he broke her wrist. He laughed once again and slid it away with his foot.

"I'll teach you." The foreman wore a grand smile that could haunt dreams. To her dismay, he gained the advantage and was atop of her, and more horrifyingly, was unzipping his pants.

If I got myself into this, I can get myself out of it, Elizabeth strongly thought, determined by doing the only option available. She kicked him where the sun didn't shine, right in the bollocks.

After he cried out and clutched his crotch, his eyes widened and said, "You're a slippery little snake, aren't ya?"

He then punched Elizabeth in her left eye.

The pain stung like a thousand needles and blackness clouded her eye. She felt a vibration in her back and clenched her jaw in pain. That was going to definitely going to bruise.

Elizabeth was...losing this fight. She tried to think but with her head swirling with chances, each was fading away as the foreman touched her feet, then her legs, then her thighs. And as if she wasn't tired before, she became exhausted.

Elizabeth could barely lift a finger.

The knife too far.

The foreman too strong.

She was done.

More than half of Whitechapel females been raped. It seemed Elizabeth was soonly joining that group.

Not thinking of anything in particular, she shut her eyes, waiting for the impossible.

Yet after a few moments, the impossible did not arrive. She slowly lifted her eyelids and tucked her chin into her chest to see the foreman jolt with shock before he was capable of forcing himself inside her. He took a gulp while his eyes bulged in horror. What had happened?

Suddenly, the man coughed in Elizabeth's face. A cough of blood. Next, the man simply fell atop of her. With her arms finally free, Elizabeth threw her cloak over her legs and angrily pushed the dead foreman off of her, spitting on him in the process.

He just died. However so?

As she watched her savior pull the dagger from the foreman's back and wiping the blood on his pants, she wondered where he arrived from. She would have heard if he ran but it was dead silent.

Although as she squinted, Elizabeth recognized him.

The man who saved her was also the Assassin she stole from this morning.

"Do you feel all right?" Her savior asked with an odd accent. He had a clear voice but his accent wasn't exactly British. It sounded Welsh. The Assassin lended out an arm and Elizabeth had no other choice except to take it tiredly. Perhaps he wouldn't recognize her considering he thought the robber was a boy. She just wished the assassin was daft enough to not remember her cloak, which she was still wearing.

"Yes, perfectly fine." She forced the out the words, "T-thank you for the help." How was Elizabeth supposed to get out of this mess? Blimey, she was simply getting into problem after problem.

"I heard a man scream and rushed to aid. What I did come to was the least of my expectations. What happened? Did he-"

Elizabeth said once again, "I'm fine, he wasn't able to do anything."

After a second of silence, he said, "You've a little...on your face." Elizabeth's face flickered with confusion until she smelled the stench of blood that remained on her face. She quickly wiped away the foreman's blood off her face. How ironic, she wished for the man to die tonight and he did. At least somebody was listening to her prayers yet their execution wasn't the most ideal.

She was right near raped.

"At least it's not yours right?" He laughed. The Assassin seemed to have a sense of humor.

She responded, "I suppose you're right." Without blood dripping over Elizabeth's eyes, she finally clearly saw the Assassin. He had rugged features, a strong jaw and nose. Yet he also had small brown eyes and lips. The Assassin had two understandable scars on his eyebrow and stubble. He looked like a typical Brit, perhaps slightly more handsome.

His face frowned when he looked at Elizabeth. I'm not the prettiest flower in the garden but that was quite rude. But before she was able to respond, he said, "That arse gave you a black eye."

Right, from the punch.

She lightly pulled her fingers to her left eye. It was swollen and she was barely capable of seeing through it. Elizabeth needed to create an excuse to her family before she went home. She almost forgot that she needed to buy the tonic before going home.

Elizabeth needed to hurry and needed the coin pouch.

Although unluckily for her, his coin pouch stood by the Assassin's foot.

Simply my luck, she thought. Somehow during that whole...event, the pouch fell from her hip. "Once again thank you but I should be heading home." She eyed the pouch. How was she supposed to reach for it before he noticed?

"Alone? I don't think that's the best idea. I'll accompany you."

Why was he such a gentlemen? It utterly frustrated Elizabeth. Just walk away, Assassin, she thought. She did not have much time left now, the shop would close soon and Elizabeth would have to run.

"No, no. I'll be fine as long as I take lit streets."

Before the Assassin was able to respond, ever so slowly, his eyes laid upon the coin pouch that rested by his foot. He bent down and picked it up with brass-knuckled hands, after weighting it and examining it more closely, his eyes narrowed. Elizabeth motioned to snatch it out of his hand but he pulled away. He realized it belonged to him. The Assassin then stared at Elizabeth with a frown before peering at her shoes and more importantly, her cloak.

Realization dawned upon his face. "It's you." He said, "You're the boy from the morning." Elizabeth was ready to say that she was in fact, a girl but kept her mouth shut.

"I've never seen you before." Elizabeth didn't know why she was playing dumb. He was an Assassin, not an idiot.

He shook his head, "No, no, no. You are the thief who took my pouch, I remember. You made me chase you around Whitechapel for half an hour. You made my feet bloody tired."

"I don't what you're talking about. And if you would kindly please give back my pouch, that would be much appreciated."

At the corner of the Assassin's lips, a smirk tugged. He said while still holding the pouch, "You may be a good thief but you're not a good liar."

Elizabeth furrowed her brows at him, "It's mine and I'm not leaving without the pouch."

He said in a sarcastic tone, "Just the pouch? Alright, I'll empty it out for you right away, miss." Was he really an Assassin? Weren't they supposed to be serious? This man was rather dim.

"But you mean the money don't you?"

"What do you want for it?"

He smirked again, as if it were a joke. "What do you have to offer?"

Elizabeth didn't have much but did acquire two valuables. Neither of which she could offer. One, her virginity which was never for sale. All her life she made sure not to make money of trafficking like other Whitechapel girls. That was an important moral for Elizabeth. Plus, this man seemed to easily get females without paying. And two, which may be more of the Assassin's interest, the locket she always wore around her neck. Her father gave it to her when she was a young girl and told her to keep it forever, never disposing of it since it was an heirloom. Elizabeth had to listen to his orders.

After she thought of all her other belongings, she admitted, "Nothing," She whispered. "I don't have anything to offer. But listen here Assassin, I'm not leaving without the pouch" She dropped the act.

"Are you threatening me?" He said with wide eyes and surprise, "I just saved you!"

Elizabeth glanced to the ground. "I had it under control."

"Yes, because nearly being raped is 'having it under control'." His voice softened, "How did you vanish anyways?"

"I hadn't known you were Assassin until after I took the pouch. Or else, I obviously wouldn't bother. I'm as surprised as you are that I managed to vanish. But all I did was take my cloak off and let my hair down, in fact I was in the same crowd I found you in."

"Bollocks! I scanned that crowd again and would have spotted you."

She raised her brows. "Perhaps your vision isn't as sharp as you think, assassin."

He looked away, conflicted that he was tricked but oddly his features softened. "Why do you need the money anyways?"

Elizabeth shot him a look. "It's another poor Whitechapel story, you wouldn't care for it."

"I asked, didn't I?"

Elizabeth silently sighed and began, "My father is ill with Cholera, you've likely heard of it. The disease that roots from bacteria. And you've also likely heard there is a tonic going around which I can't afford. My pay for even a year would never cover the price of that tonic. That's why when I saw your heavy pouch...I took the chance."

The Assassin's eyes flickered to the right and to the ground before letting out a deep sigh through his nostrils and closing his eyes. He muttered to himself, "I can't believe I'm doing this."

Unexpectedly, he tossed the pouch in the air. Elizabeth caught it in one hand.

He said, "I don't know who you are but it seems you've had a rough night." He eyed the pouch, "I hope you aren't lying to me." Elizabeth didn't lie, for some odd reason, every word that exited her mouth was the truth.

"What are you doing, Assassin?"

Before casually using his gauntlet darting a rope and pulling to the roof, he said, "Consider it a loan."

While holding the coin pouch in her hand, Elizabeth watched with utter shock as the Assassin's silhouette vanished upon the rooftop.


	3. Bonds of Blood

**3: Bonds of Blood**

The series of events kept twirling, twisting and turning in her head. At the time, she thought nothing, allowing whatever to occur to happen but now her head was spinning like a wheel. Out of shame? Fear? Embarrassment? Elizabeth didn't know.

She just couldn't believe she nearly  _allowed_  that bastard to rape her.

That was nowhere near her, that wasn't herself. The real Elizabeth wouldn't have left insults cloud actions. She was being daft, a bloody fool too focused on the foreman's words. Not having a proper education didn't mean she didn't have a brain. She used anger instead of common sense and that was the error. Brash acts were never intelligent ideas.

Why the bloody hell she even cared what the foreman said was beyond her. He was only another rich Westminster twit. His words shouldn't have hurt Elizabeth but they did. She supposed the phrase many have told her, 'family a sore subject, huh?' was true.

But one thing was very clear to Elizabeth - it was all too close. She wasn't alive just to be reckless. Recklessness costed lives. She knew that better than anyone. Killing or escaping the foreman was an easy enough job yet she simply sat there. Nobody but herself put her in that position, it was almost as if she was waiting for a saviour. Waiting for a 'saviour' would get you killed. Let us thank Whitechapel for teaching her that.

Oddly enough, her saviour did arrive and it pissed her off even more.

Elizabeth wasn't particularly angry at the Assassin, after all, he did  _help_ her. More upset with herself. If he hadn't aided her, she would have became the foreman's little toy for heavens knew how long. What frustrated her was that Elizabeth gave up before the Assassin even showed up. She was many things but a quitter wasn't one. The next time, although she preferred there not to be one, she understood a saviour wouldn't be there in time to lend a helping hand. The Assassin wouldn't be there again, hell, nobody would.

She vowed that she would never be that reckless, that  _vulnerable_  ever again.

Her impression of the Assassin was complicated to say the least. There was plenty that confused her, for example, she questioned why he allowed her to keep the pouch.  _His_  pouch, the exact one she  _stole_  from him. His motive for his action was unknown to Elizabeth didn't care much for it.

After nicking from him, she hoped to never see his face again. Ironic that he was the one who rescued her. She didn't even know the Assassin's name, not that it mattered, since anywhere he would be, she would be far away. Whitechapel was a small part of London, and London was a tiny part of the world. Seeing him again was a slim chance and knew the 'loan' he asked for was simply joke by the way he mentioned it. But why? There had to be more to his generosity, there was always a catch.

Yet Elizabeth already had enough problems of her own. A loan-requesting, humourous and no-good Assassin was the last thing she desired to add to the list so she forbid the Assassin from entering her thoughts anymore. But Elizabeth couldn't forbid the dead foreman from entering. She predicted herself getting trapped into another web of problems soon.

They couldn't know Elizabeth had something to do with the foreman's death. Although she didn't actually do the killing, they would probably throw her in a cell to rot with the rest of Whitechapel's worst since they didn't have any other alibis. If anyone was curious, Elizabeth didn't walk past Castle Alley the night of his death.

 _Did you see any suspicious behaviour 'round Castle Alley the night of May 5?_  they would ask.

 _No, sir, I ain't walking near that alley at night. It's dangerous, everybody knows this, I only take lit streets with a co-worker at my side,_  she would say.

It worked to her advantage since the only bystander was, well, dead.

She couldn't forget about the Assassin but she doubted he would make another appearance. It wasn't logical. It was he who killed the foreman, not Elizabeth and he wouldn't blame her. He wouldn't dare to.

 _It's my fault, if I ignored the foreman bastard I coulda avoided it, all of it, Elizabeth thought. But he woulda still be alive and with my luck, sooner or later something ought to happen_.

A chill vibrated down her spine as she thought of the possibilities. In an odd way, it delighted Elizabeth the foreman was dead. It was what she wished for after all. She didn't believe in destiny or fate but knew the the foreman's silence was prolonged for only long. A knife to the back was forever.

/

The bells jingled above Elizabeth's head as she opened the door to the petite corner store. It was the size typically of a lounge and had a bookshelf with worn out books at the side. Books she would have loved to read if she could. The store was warmly lit by candles and a vanilla fragrance.

The old merchant, Mr. Ketelbee, stood behind the counter with his back faced toward her. He was her usual merchant for five years. Not the nicest man but certainly honest. Ketelbee turned around at the sound of the bells and shot Elizabeth an annoyed look.

"Elizabeth, I was just closing, must you arrive so late? I assume you want the usual - what on Earth happened to your face girl?"

He was talking about the black eye and the cuts the dead foreman gave her. It was now worse, slightly stinging, her eye was squinted surrounded by a vivid blue-purple bruise.

Not desiring to explain, she vaguely said, "Simply an argument that went south."

"We have ointments to quicken the healing process, for a price, of course."

Elizabeth interrupted, "No, Ketelbee, I'm not here for that. I fancy something else that you may flog. A certain  _tonic's_  been rounding London lately. Heard of it?"

Ketelbee's eyes shifted, looking outside the store window. "An illegal Cholera tonic certainly won't help with the eye."

He slipped, not realizing at all.

"Not for me and I ain't said anything about Cholera."

He said, "Now, why would you think my store would be distributing illegal tonic's anyways? This is a well run establishment, girl. I don't need no policemen showing up at my store because of your accusations."

This was the first time Elizabeth heard Ketelbee lie. He was awful. His voice became high-pitched, his actions stiff and wouldn't stare directly at her.

She leaned against the counter and said, "Don't fool yourself, I  _know_  you have it, stop pulling my leg."

"Even if I did have it, you can't afford it." He scoffed. "You're barely able to afford a rotten slice of cheese."

 _A rotten slice of cheese, huh?_  she thought as she equipped her coin pouch and dangled it in front of the merchant's face. His face changed in a beat, going from to boredom to surprise. Since of its velvety fabric and the way the coins were clinking against each other, Ketelbee recognized the pouch as new and heavy.

She simply said, "How 'bout double, Ketelbee?"

Ketelbee's face twisted, as if to say, 'where did the poor girl get all that?'. Yet although Elizabeth saw his disbelief, she knew that he wouldn't turn down extra shillings. He still lived in Whitechapel selling cheap products for the poor, not in Westminster charging overpriced products to lads. If he knew what was good for him, Ketelbee would not question her, sell her the illegal tonic and never speak of it again.

"You're persistent, Elizabeth, I'll give you that." He suddenly reached underneath the counter and took out a brown bottle. The tonic. "Usually I don't sell to little kids since they can't keep their mouth belted up but I suppose you gave me an offer I can't refuse. But listen closely, Elizabeth, this stays between us. The last thing I need is all of London showing up at my doorstep."

"Got it, it won't leave this room, I swear it."

Ketelbee asked, "Is that all?"

"Give me the usual and an extra pound of cheese, not rotten, Ketelbee." Elizabeth smirked.

He handed her the order and said, "Feeling generous today, aren't you? You must be one helluva thief, girl."

"Maybe I've been just saving." Ketelbee rolled his eyes, knowing that wasn't the case.

Elizabeth payed for the products with the Assassin's money. The total came to be higher than she expected but she still acquired half of the coins left. Elizabeth partially regretted buying the extra cheese, knowing it was unnecessary. The money wouldn't last forever, but it did for now. And for once in her life, Elizabeth didn't care about money.

She had her father's cure in the palm of her hand.

"Till tomorrow, Elizabeth." Ketelbee added before she shortly left his store.

/

"Home, blessed home." Elizabeth sarcastically muttered as she followed the steps to the underground apartment complex.

A slum.

It was drafty, cramped and dark. Composed of one tunnel-like hallway with rooms on each side. The resident's paid rent to an arse who sent thugs to families who hadn't and threaten them. Elizabeth was already two months overdue. She expected the thugs to arrive sometime this week but unbeknownst to them, Elizabeth would've paid it by then.

Yelling called out from the rooms as she walked down the hallway. She kept her tonic and pouch hidden, keeping a steady hand on her blade as she walked past two men smoking cigars. When the men looked at her, it wasn't with danger. They shot an odd look towards her face. She knew what they were thinking. Battered, bruised and bloody, her face looked like she had been hit by a carriage, which also was coincidentally exactly what she was going to tell her father.

She swiftly passed the men without a glance and finally approached her front door. The chipped wood door had a scratched out 'room 214' plate hanging from it.

Elizabeth knocked on the door before the sound of a cheap lock opening erupted. Her younger brother stood in the doorway, looking tiny compared to it. Oliver was waiting for Elizabeth to come home, hungry for food.

All the Whittock siblings were malnourished and thin but Oliver by far was the skinniest. He was eleven but had resembled the body of an eight year old. He was still wearing his partially clean Dame School clothing; black capri pants, suspenders and a white shirt. Elizabeth and her little brother received their father's features, ash brown hair, gray eyes and a straight nose. Looking at Oliver's face was similar to looking at a mirror.

"Oliver."

Before he could respond a short greeting in return, he peered at Elizabeth's bruised face. His mouth formed a small circle matched with wide doe-eyes. She immediately lifted a finger to her lips before he was able to say anything.

She said forcefully, "Just start your dinner."

He lit up at the mention of his favourite product, food, but curiosity still lingered in his eyes.

While gently pushing Oliver to the corner, she whispered in his ear, "Not a word."

With that, Elizabeth peered into the small room, their home. It was tiny living space for four -  _three_. The dark gray concrete walls had mold and cracks where rodents and spiders came freely in and out. There was no furniture, no bathroom and no kitchen, simply a fireplace with a cot. The one-dimensional, squared room with cold floors was especially cruel during winters. Thankfully, it was the beginning of summer so Elizabeth had no need to worry about the colder winters till several months.

Her father was asleep by the lit fireplace and she kneeled beside him. He sat atop a thin, worn out mattress with a blanket wrapped around him. Papa was slim, his bones clearly visible. He had wrinkles and hollowed cheeks. His ash brown hair had gray strands in it yet he still had his comical bushy eyebrows. He wasn't too old, mere 43 years of age but the disease caused him to look far older. The Cholera disease.

He was slowly dying with no care to society.

Frank Whittock was considered well known around London, not positively though. Born in poverty, Papa was the epitome story of an underdog. He worked his way to the top, took a loan from the Bank of England and became a businessman who co-owned the business  _Whittock & Forge Steel_ with his friend, Timothy Forge. Rich and proud, he had a house in Westminster with two children. Herself and her brother, William. Yet all wasn't well with the Whittocks as it seemed. Just as Elizabeth was an infant, Papa was tricked into a foolish deal by an unknown con artist that caused him to lose money. The company was forced into bankruptcy until Timothy Forge, the co-owner and Templar, fixed it but with a steep cost. Since Papa didn't contribute, he was no longer a shared owner and Forge signed Papa off.

Things went downhill for the Whittocks from then.

Now living in a slum in Whitechapel, her mother died giving birth to Oliver. Elizabeth didn't have a immense memory of her but remembered what she looked like perfectly. Will was most heartbroken but he worked hard to support the family. If only he did that as of now. In fact, she had no idea where he was now. Oliver was spoilt. He still went to Dame School to learn, a privilege neither Elizabeth nor Will had. And Elizabeth, well, she worked her arse off for her father's previously owned company and co-owner, Forge Steel. She didn't first like the job but Papa insisted, saying it was more than anywhere else would pay her. It was the only job offered to her age group and gender that didn't involve sewing. She despised sewing but perhaps working at Forge Steel was worse.

In conclusion, the Whittocks were rich, now poor. Because of Papa, who was too heartbroken to support his family after his wife's death. Elizabeth didn't want to blame her father but found no one else to.

"Papa, wake up," Elizabeth slightly shook him. "I've something for you."

Her father shook his head and began to cough a wet, loud cough. After, he slowly lifted his eyes open and frowned when he saw her face. He placed a boney hand on the side of her cheek and tilted it sideways.

He asked, "Dear god, Elizabeth, what happened?"

"This?" She offered a shaky smile while touching the black eye and cuts. "Just an accident. A drunken coachman steered his horse in my direction and I jumped outta the way. It was a small fall, didn't hurt."

He frailey said, "You're telling me a fall did that? Elizabeth, I may old and ill but I'm not off my trolley, at least not yet. Now are you going to tell me what really happened or not?"

Silence passed upon them before she said, "That's the truth. Why would I lie?"

Either from frustration or fatigue, Papa laid down and said, "I'm too old to argue," More like too ill. "but just because I'm ill doesn't mean you can easily lie to me, Elizabeth, neither does it give you the right to do so. Did you expect me to eat your every word?"

She stayed quiet.

"Still a lie. I don't understand why you lie so often. I suppose it doesn't matter now but a carriage mishap, really? That's not even partially believable. And on the other hand, nobody receives a black eye from a... 're a horrible liar...though I do give you credit for trying."

The Assassin's words ringed in her ear from earlier, y _ou may be a good thief but you're not a good liar._  Elizabeth couldn't be that awful of a liar, could she? She liked to think she wasn't, she wasn't as bad as Ketelbee. She frequently lied to her father but that didn't mean he believed her.

Every time, he saw through her and she continued telling lies. Lying protected Papa from reality, which was exactly what he needed for now.

Papa said, " But whatever happened, happened. You've to be more careful, Elizabeth, you understand how dangerous Whitechapel is."

"I know that, Papa. It won't happen again, I'll be ready next time."

"What do you mean 'next time'? How hard can it be to stay away from trouble?"

"It's only a black eye, it will go away - i've had worse, you know I've had worse."

"And the attacker?" Papa asked.

Elizabeth muttered, "Won't be seeing him anytime soon." She wished to add 'or ever' but kept her mouth shut. Hiding the truth was easier than outright lying and she didn't want her father to know of the foreman's death or the Assassin's rescue. "I escaped before anything else happened."

"Are you sure he didn't follow you when you went to the store?"

"He couldn't have," Elizabeth said. "He was too drunk to follow me."

"I just want you be safe, that's all. Positive you're all right?"

Elizabeth enclosed her hands over Papa's cold one's. She said, "Don't worry, I'm ace."

Papa didn't look convinced but he changed the subject. "How's ole' Ketelbee?"

"Same ole' kook. He's trying to get a store in Westminster, probably kill for one. Ketelbee actually flogged me something tonight." Elizabeth took the tonic out of her pocket. "It's the Cholera tonic, Papa. It's the cure."

Papa's eyes widened and he shot her a disappointed look but didn't say anything. He didn't need to. Elizabeth knew what he was thinking. She loosened the cap of the bottle and handed it to her father. He was weary to consume the tonic but she insisted on drinking it and lifted the tonic onto his lips.

After he consumed it, he said, "You do know this may not work, correct?"

"Yes, I'm aware, but it's better than nothing. Made of some random type of plant, they say. The talk 'bout it's been good, it should live up to it."

Another moment of silence occurred before he finally said, "Be honest with me, how many pockets did you knick to afford that?" He gave her the look again. The look she disliked ever so dearly.

"Don't look at me like that," she muttered. "You know full well I've been doing this for years."

Papa coughed, "And you know I've never agreed with it. I wouldn't mind if your sticky fingers pickpocketed Westminster's not the people of Whitechapel. They need it as much as we do to survive."

"He ain't poor," Elizabeth scoffed. "Assassin's don't live in Whitechapel."

Papa suddenly became more awake, saying vividly, "He was an Assassin? How did you - it doesn't matter. Stay away from Assassins, from Templars,  _stay away from all of them._  Don't get involved with them, just be clear. Blimey, Elizabeth, I don't want this for you, for the others. You have potential, don't waste it. Get out of Whitechapel and find a nice home."

Elizabeth's father would always get like this when Templars or Assassins were involved. Angsty, afraid and anxious. She believed it to be because they were dangerous but she didn't quite think so.

"Templars and Assassins are just like us. Their people, ain't nothing else. And what do you wish of me, to marry a rich man twenty years my senior?" Elizabeth spat. "Is that the 'potential'? Papa, we've had this conversation a hundred times before."

It was true. The father and daughter had the exact same conversation before. Papa always tried to convince her to be more of an opportunist while she shrugged him off. Elizabeth knew Papa wanted her to be happy and healthy overall but there was a knot, a little strain in their relationship ever since she became another one of those Whitechapel thieves. Papa was all about pride and fairness, he believed the only way to get to the top was to work their way up. Elizabeth was different to say the least and didn't think he had the right to tell her how to live her life.

"This life, you put me into. This family, you gave me. This job, you made me do and I forgave for all of those things, I did. But you can't tell me to make something good out of myself and I can't lie to you and say I will."

He said, "Just hear me out, I swear this will be the last time. You may not think it now but we're the same, Elizabeth, you and I. I know that's not what you want to hear. I know what you think of me, what everyone's thinks of me. A lazy and poor man.A bloody fool." He whispered, "This won't mean much to you, but promise me one thing."

Papa suddenly took ahold of a locket off of Elizabeth's neck. It was a gold locket with a pendant inscribed with the family, for all it was worth. She was the only Whittock sibling to receive this locket from her father.

He said, "Remember you're a Whittock. Promise that you carry that name with pride not shame. It may be tough but please, I beg of you."

Elizabeth dropped the pendant back in place, underneath her shirt and looked at her father. He begged her of something, he had never done that before. She didn't understand why her father wanted the Whittock name to be so important. It surely wasn't.

Elizabeth didn't want to, but she still agreed, "Once a Whittock, always a Whittock, ain't it?"

From the tonic's side effects, Papa slowly shut his eyes falling in a deep slumber. He occasionally coughed and stirred in his sleep and Elizabeth pulled the blanket higher up on him and placed more wood into the fireplace.

She plotted herself beside Oliver, staring blankly at the source of warmth. A little while after, he handed her the remains of dinner. Bread, vegetables, milk and cheese. Usually, her mouth would have salivated simply staring at the food but she hadn't had much of an appetite after tonight.

Elizabeth shoved the remains toward her little brother and said, "Eat my share too, not hungry."

Oliver happily took it and dug in at once. After a few bites in, he looked at her with his big gray eyes, saying, "Does it hurt? Your eye."

"No, not anymore."

"Are you okay, Lizzy?" Oliver was the only one to call her that nickname. He refused to pronounce as a baby the full four-syllable name thus shortened it to Lizzy and it stuck.

"I'm fine, don't worry about me." Elizabeth knew Oliver worried for Elizabeth more than a child should stress. She changed the subject, saying, "How was your day?"

"Same ole' thing. Dame school is boring, the kids aren't at all nice."

She said, "Don't complain about Dame School, Oliver. It's education, a privilege."

Nearly a whisper, he said, "Sorry."

"For Dame School kids, grow some bollocks and flash them your fists. Just like I taught you. One to the face, other to the stomach and knee to the groin, works every time, I tell you...almost every time. Doesn't matter if he's bigger than you, you still take him. Ain't no such thing as a fair fight."

"I don't want to fight, I don't want to fight anyone. I just want him to leave me alone."

Elizabeth inwardly sighed. This was Oliver, a pacifist at it's best. He would never hurt a fly and it utterly annoyed her.

She said, "He ain't ever gonna leave you alone as you sit like a duck. Show him who's boss."

"But-"

Elizabeth interrupted, knowing fighting was the boys last intention. "Whatever, Oliver, I don't care what you do. Just don't end up coming home beat. We ain't paying for the medicals."

Her eyes shifted onto a piled of clothing that she didn't see before. Oliver suddenly tried to remove it but she grabbed it in time. Black pants and a black shirt, it was Will's clothes. Why were his clothes here if he hadn't come home?

"Something you'd like to tell me?"

Oliver sighed and said, "William stopped by today."

"Stopped by, did he?" She dryly chuckled. " _Of course he did._  What'd he want?"

"Nothing, just wanted to see Papa." Oliver's eyes shifted and Elizabeth knew the boy was hiding something.

"You're not telling me everything."

He said, "I can't tell you, I promised him I wouldn't."

Elizabeth stared into the fire, the dancing flames and blankly said, "Fine, whatever you say. You protect Will willy nilly. Long as you know I'll find out, I'll get it out of you soon enough. I always do."


	4. O'Dea of the Orphans

4: O'Dea of the Orphans

"The Slavery Abolition Act, passed in 1833 banned slavery from occurring throughout the British Empire," the Dame School teacher lectured the class. His laughing wrinkles crinkled while he over-pronounced his speech. There was a bored expression vividly displayed on his face and looked as if he would rather run across London naked than be teaching history to a group of unfocused and annoying children.

Since the school was run by churches  _at_  the church, it was free of cost. They desired to give the less fortunate children of Whitechapel an education — well, not all children, only the boys. Girls were allowed to attend but didn't learn the subjects he did and were kept in the cathedral. From one of his friends, she clarified that they learned sewing, cooking and etiquette.

At first, Oliver was confused and asked why they weren't taught the same subjects and she simply said, 'because you're a boy, and I'm a girl.'. It took him several months to understand what she meant and when he finally did, he didn't know what to think. He believed his friend intelligent but it wasn't possible for her to apply for a job — a man's job.

It was impossible. London, the world, society wouldn't allow it but that didn't mean Oliver agreed.

Yet that also didn't mean he wasn't happy to be born male and not female. They had it rough, especially when poor. The stories his female friends told him were horrifying and these girls were his age — only children. He wondered how worse his sixteen-year-old sister had been through. Oliver could only guess and wonder since she never told him what occurred in the shadows.

But Lizzy was always different, from the start. He didn't know if her  _different_  was good. Knowing her, if she wasn't too old for Dame School, she would likely chop off her long hair and try to pass for a boy.

Just for a education she never received.

A decent one, Oliver thought, not great but definitely not bad. The nuns and priests who taught didn't have a vast knowledge on the subjects — excluding religion — and gave lessons based on the textbooks. But as Lizzy drilled into his head, it was a privilege that he was receiving an education in a naturally lit classroom with plentiful sunshine instead of being forced working numerous hours at a gloomy factory. Like her.

Privilege. Privilege. Privilege.

Oliver enjoyed all of the subjects although mathematics was his least favourite. Although he was skilled in calculations, he was horrible with models and charts. History rarely bored him to death unlike the other students. The lessons were interesting. Learning about Britain's brilliant but bloody history was fascinating. The sciences were fine though certainly not his strong suit. He rather liked language for it allowed him to read and speak fluently English compared to his family who were illiterate.

He wished to teach Lizzy if she weren't so busy.

His favourite class, religion was absorbing. Listening attentively to every single lesson, asking questions and reading the Bible made him something very few in Whitechapel were — a believer.

He was a loyal and proud Catholic, unlike the boys in Dame School who believed the priests only spat nonsense. He hadn't shared his belief with others, especially from his family from fear. Lizzy was entirely out of the question. She would believe he was too young to independently choose a religion but he was certain, more certain than ever. It gave him hope — peace knowing their was a greater being always on his shoulder, looking out for him who would help him when he was starving, freezing and lonely.

Beforehand, he relied on Will but found that useless now. For his entire life, his brother was there for him but now he was absent and it was hard to ignore it. After all, he was barely home — if he even considered the slum his home anymore. And when he did come home, all he talked about was himself and the stupid gang he joined.

The Rooks. The secret he promised to keep but failed.

Unplanned, Lizzy cornered him and managed to get it out of Oliver. It wasn't because she was persuasive, she was scary. He didn't tell her everything, just that he joined the Assassin affiliated gang and kept it from Papa. Most importantly, he refrained from telling her Will quit his factory job. That was Will's confession to tell and didn't want to be the one to feel his sister's wrath.

Oliver wanted to agree with Will's choice but couldn't bring himself to. He also wanted to believe Will was busy and vising was a difficult but couldn't bring himself to.

He couldn't bring himself to ignore. Ignore the fact Will was abandoning him and the family for a hopeless dream he wouldn't seize —

Shifting his eyes eyes back onto his priest, Oliver forced himself to focus on the lesson and not become distracted by personal thoughts. He was there for a bloody education, not to mindlessly ponder. Privilege, he forcefully reminded.

The priest was still speaking of the Slavery Abolition Act and Oliver listened to every word he spoke although he knew the lesson inside out. Possibly more in-depth as well. He read ahead of the textbook, in fact, he read the whole book. Reading was a habit more than a passion, when he started, he couldn't stop. He preferred fiction instead of non but nethertheless, he read  _everything_.

Oliver's ear perked as the priest asked the students, "Do any of you know who encouraged the movement to pass, nearly a hundred years ago?"

When he heard 'nearly a hundred years ago', the answer swirled into his head. A second no longer, Oliver shot his hand into the air while the other students sat still, picking their noses or staring at the wooden floor or secretly throwing objects at each other.

Bloody hell, this class was infuriatingly daft. It was an easy as pie answer, it was in the first paragraph of the text. Was it that difficult to manage time to read? At this rate, he didn't even think the class knew how to read. Most of them were poor orphans and it didn't make sense to him why they didn't take Dame School as an experience, not a living hell.

The priest glanced at him and rolled his eyes. He said, "Anyone else bother to answer?"

Nobody raised their hands which left Oliver still with hand in the air. As always.

"Of course nobody knows the answer," the priest muttered under his breath. "Did any of you even read the assigned reading or were you too busy doing heaven knows what. How about you, John, what do you suppose the answer is?"

John, the bully of Dame School. Good-for-nothing, ugly and rude, Oliver didn't like him. He was as stupid as he looked with his large, robust frame. John joined a gang, the Blighters and was why he lived in the lap of luxury for an orphan. He was well-built compared to the other children because of his position in a gang. Of course, he wasn't certain it was true but guessed it by the red band he wore underneath his Dame School clothing.

Blighters liked them young since there numbers were dwindling on the streets. Younger they were, easier to convince.

Although a small part of Oliver was jealous of him, he would die before he became anything like him. John constantly teased him for his tiny figure and occasionally pushed him, threatened him and hit him.

The reason? Because Oliver was an easy target.

"Uh, Shakespeare?" John said unknowingly with a grin on his face. He knew he was wrong, dead wrong but wanted to get a laugh out of the class. The class obliged, laughing at his idiotic answer that bewildered Oliver. How was that funny in the slightest bit? It was the stupidest thing he ever heard.

The priest sarcastically said, "Another hundred years too early but good try," His eyes then landed on Oliver's and asked of him, "The answer?"

Almost instantly, he responded, "It was because of Lord Mansfield's judgement of emancipating a slave in the Somersett's Case that allowed the act to launch." The words slipped off his slippery tongue.

"Thank you, Oliver," the priest said before his black robe swayed as he walked towards the old oak desk placed in front of the green chalkboard.

While the priest was busy taking something out of his desk, Oliver could feel the student's sneer at him. Since he sat at the front, eyeballs peered into the back of his head.

He knew why.

His joke was humorous to the class and he had to ruin it by answering correctly. As always. He heard muttering ranging from, 'know-it-all' to 'book-kisser'. He could've lied to the priest and give some silly answer but Oliver wasn't going to act daft just to fit in. He didn't need John's or the class' approval, he was there to learn. Yes, friends in the class would be pleasant but he wasn't ready to become friends with dimwits.

He'd lose IQ points just by standing next to them.

Risking a glance behind his shoulder, he saw John narrow his eyes at him and mouthed something Oliver didn't catch. His eye's were deadly compared to the others and could only imagine what he said.

Oliver quickly turned to the teacher as he said, "To conclude the lesson, I'll be giving you each a piece of paper to write what you believe should be a new act or law enforced by London," The priest then walked along the single filed desks to hand out the papers. "These will be read aloud but you need not to write your name if desired."

As he received his paper, Oliver reached his hand onto the desk for his pencil but nothing was there. He searched his desk, inside of it and the floor but alas, nothing. It wasn't until he heard John and his cronies sitting near him snicker, he realized they took it.

A crony with a buzzcut grinned as he revealed Oliver's pencil split in half inside of his palm.

One pencil with a rubber eraser at the top was given to each Dame School student at the beginning of the year. The school would supply no more and expected the children to replace it themselves if lost, broken or stolen. Many students were pencil-less because they couldn't afford another one or able to steal one.

John and his cronies continued to quietly chuckle but abruptly stopped when Oliver sat still, unfazed by the whole ordeal.

Unfortunately for them, after they broke his pencil in the first week of school, he bought a supply of them from shillings found on the ground. His fingers still cramped from poking through sewer gates and dipping into fountains. A time commitment that seemed worthless at the time but now, as he took another pencil out of his bag, the look on John's face was priceless.

Oliver looked past Johns glare and onto the piece of paper laid in front of him. He was ready to write a new law to be enforced from his opinion, but thought of something else — something better and began writing.

He won this battle against John but he wasn't done, he needed to win the war without physically hurting him. Therefore, instead of signing the written parchment with his name, he scribbled  _John_  underneath the text.

"Pass the parchments to the front," the priest said and Oliver sat patient, awaiting the arriving parchments. And as the boy behind him passed the pile, swiftly as ever, he handed it to the priest who was making his way around the classroom.

The priest then began to read the new laws out loud. All of them were stupid, for example, one was to make bullfighting a legal to sport to watch in London or that stealing wasn't considered a crime. One person went as far as writing to make murder legal. The priest threw that one and most others in the trashcan.

As all the laws were being read, Oliver simply waited for his — 'John's' law to be read.

And he knew exactly when the priest read it, for his face went from neutral to disgust. He quickly glared at John and spat, "Shame on you, boy, writing this sinful law. Even if it is a joke or not, this is disgraceful. May God take mercy on you for this writing and let it be known,"

Then, the priest read to the class;

_It would please me if a new law or act were created concerning same-sex marriage. Marrying the same-sex should be legal now and not frowned upon. We were born this way, not made. I don't find the opposite sex, females, attractive and rather ugly beings but men — now that's a completely different matter._

_Dear God, his skin is so soft and translucent. He smells like ginger mixed with lavender and I desire to swim in his scent._

_I desire to get lost with him — in him._

After the priest read the act, he ungracefully ripped it to shreds and threw it at John who sat flabbergasted. The pieces hit his face and the entire class bursted out in hysterics, his cronies included.

John was dumbfounded with his jaw hanging to the ground as if he hadn't registered what happened. But bloody hell, he was utterly humiliated. He began to shake his head and frantically looked around the class for answers but none were given. His freckled face was beginning to pink and the embarrassment was obvious.

He couldn't punch or threaten his way out of this one.

The priest said to John while gently dropping a Bible on his desk, "Read all of Psalms and be prepared to answer the questions tomorrow as punishment and if you don't — there will consequences," he said while directly looking at John who was still red-cheeked and too busy glaring at his cronies for laughing.

"Everyone is dismissed and remember, God is always watching," the priest said then turned to the class, waving his hand.

Oliver wasted no time shoving his belongings into his ratty book bag and while doing so, he failed to control the sneaky grin creeping upon his lips.

/

Following the wide, crowded road towards home, Oliver's stomach grumbled in hunger. He ignored it, fully knowing Lizzy wasn't coming home until late.

Usually, she came home grumpy but a week after she gave Papa the tonic, she was more neutral. Keeping quiet while looking after Papa who was always extremely tired. It didn't seem he was recovering but perhaps it was the tonic's side effects. He asked Lizzy if there was a chance the tonic wasn't working on Papa and she brushed him off, saying there was no reason it wouldn't.

After that, Oliver refrained of talking about Papa's health with her.

Walking behind a group of people, Oliver's back creeped with a chill. He sensed as if someone was following him.

He heard a voice that was all too familiar. It said, "There he is." Oliver turned around to unveil the pest.

John and his cronies followed him a few feet back.

_Keep walking, just keep walking,_  he thought as he focused on the path ahead. People were crowding the way but since he was slim, he managed to squeeze through them.

Looking behind him, he wasn't able to spot them and let out the breath he'd been holding. Then, he pivoted into an alley in direction to home. Unfortunately, the alley was isolated and believed he could hear footsteps approaching from afar. He turned his leisure walk into a speedy one. The faster he was able to get out of the alley, the better.

He knew why John and his cronies were following him and Oliver really didn't desire to head home with a black eye that matched Lizzy's.

He needed to go faster.

Almost too suddenly, a voice called, "Smart-ass answer in history, twig and that little trick you pulled. But don't think I don't know it was you." John. Without his cronies. "Where ya think ya goin'?"

Oliver pretended he didn't hear and walked faster, hearing his heart beat within his chest while his palms became clammy. This wasn't good, not at all, his odds weren't good. John was stronger and faster. He hit Oliver before but never actually— jumped him.

But, as Oliver scarily thought, there was a first time for everything.

John called his name once more and instead of glancing back, he booked into a sprint as fast as his short legs could carry. As he was near the end of alleyway, two boys stepped out with ugly grins on their faces. Johns cronies.

Bloody hell.

So that was where they were, cutting through the streets to corner him —

"Ain't too bad for a dimwit, huh?"

Trying to look for a way out of this situation, he sadly couldn't find one. He was cornered like an animal. But unlike an animal, he couldn't fight back.

Lizzy's advice was shot to hell when John was in comparison. Plus, he didn't want to hurt John, at least not on purpose or self-defense.

John's belly jiggled as he walked forward, a sneer on his face. He scoffed, "Oh, God help you, twig, you ain't getting out of this one with your sneaky tricks. I'm gonna pummel you so bad you'll look like a plum." John stepped forward and Oliver, scared, cowered until he was grasped by the cronies.

John's eyes were menacing as he approached him, rubbing his fists in the meanwhile. He struggled in their grasp but couldn't squeeze through. They were too big.

Suddenly, a light but obviously firm voice called out from the shadows, "What's going on here, Johnny?" A girl with brunette pigtails stepped out. She was wearing a green dress with a white half-apron draped on it. The girl looked to be Oliver's age, perhaps a year older but her face wasn't childish — she looked serious, well beyond her age.

John narrowed his eyes at the girl but surprisingly, took a step away from Oliver who was still trapped.

John crossed his arms over his chest and said, "What're you doing here, O'Dea? This ain't any of your business, leave."

O'Dea?

As in Clara O'Dea?

"Ain't my business, huh? Well, it wasn't my business to help you when your parents died and you were left on the street to fend for yourself," she sneered, "have you forgotten all I did for you? Or forgotten what I have on you — "

Oliver was too struck by Clara to focus on what she said to John. It was her, it really was and she was helping him from the bullies.

Clara O'Dea.

Everyone child knew her name in Whitechapel, knew what she did. She was a saviour to orphans or poor children but a pest to wealthy men. She helped orphans out of labour and oppression.

She was notorious.

"Shut your mouth before I do it for you," he said, "I'm not messing around."

She simply said, "How are the Blighters treating you? Have they found out about — "

"Shut. Up."

Clara smiled. "I see, nobody knows, do they? Let go of the boy and perhaps I'll be quiet. For now."

"You want to help the twig, fine, this ain't worth my time. Fuck you and your orphans," he barked, "and O'Dea, watch your back."

"Always."

With a snap of his fingers, John's cronies let go of Oliver whose knees felt weak and fell to the ground. His heart was still racing but paced itself as he watched them walk always with not another word.

"That was fun, wasn't it?" Clara giggled, helping Oliver from the floor who took her hand hesitantly.

"I — thank you for helping me," Oliver said, scratching the back of his head. He didn't know what else to say to her.

"It was nothing, really, I just wanted to scare Johnny — but helping you was a plus," she genuinely smirked and shook his hand while saying, "I'm Clara O'Dea, but you probably already knew that. Who are you?"

He announced, "My name's Oliver, Oliver Whittock."

"A Whittock? Related to Frank Whittock?"

"He's my father."

"And he's poor," Clara's eyes shifted, as if gears were turning in her head. She said sweetly, "If you're not too busy now, follow me somewhere. I swear it'll be worth your while."

Oliver asked, curious but also fearful, "Where?"

"You'll see, it's not far from here."

/

Master Assassin, Jacob Frye walked along the dirty cobblestoned path while whistling to a random off-tune rhythm.

The warm sun from the newly summer weather caused beads of sweat to glisten on his face — he wasn't wearing his top hat. It was also a mistake to wear his heavy black coat instead of the light, brown one. He was a simple man and preferred simple clothing but the council decided since he was Master Assassin, he must look the part.

A rule only enforced when he was titled Master Assassin. A coincidence? Jacob surely didn't think so.

He was spending more time in Whitechapel than expected — or desired. To be utterly blunt, although the borough had odd charm, it was far from the bee's knees. Partially, he was there to aid the poor families but found that impossible even with the entire Brotherhood at his command.

Safety was the only thing he could provide them. And that wasn't even enough.

Jacob was staying at a Rook's stronghold, particularly a ratty old abandoned house. His neck cramped in pain from the bed like nails. It was also becoming a nuisance to constantly watch his coin pouch from sticky little fingers. The thieves here were sneaky little brats yet they hadn't managed to sod off with it.

Well, all — except for one.

But how could he forget — forget about the bloody men in the bars who always tried to pick a fight with him.

Perhaps it was because he looked so damned good in his ensemble? Or was it his winning smile? Deep down, Jacob doubted it was those reason and likely because of his quick-witted mouth that was hard to control. Every single time, he would warn them, 'sure you want to do this, lads? I pack quite a punch.'. And if they didn't back off after the warning, which occurred often, he didn't speak twice and knocked stars into their heads. Could you blame him? It was self-defence! Plus, knocking those cocky grins off their faces — literally — was a joyful feeling.

However, he promised himself to try to keep a filter then on, try being the keyword. It was hard to deny that these offhand casualties were wasting his time from his real mission.

His real mission, you may ask?

Turned out, the possible threat he was gathering information morphed into a very real, very annoying problem. In a span of week, Timothy Forge was already placed a respected Templar, currently making his way to Grand Master. It utterly confused him how quick he was given the title. The Templars were really desperate without someone in power, it seemed.

Jacob contemplated assassinating Forge but rejected the idea, realizing it would stir the pot even more. He needed more information on him and as of now, he had nothing valuable. He also considered meeting the man but figured it too early. Forge was too deep in the shadows than preferred.

This was all taking a toll on him, he desperately needed advice from his stealthy twin who he hadn't heard from yet. She was too busy off with Greenie in India doing whatever they did.

The weight of London was on his shoulders and he didn't have someone to help him carry it.

But by the looks of it, he was to do this alone. Without a partner.

_Great_.


	5. Oath of Allegiance

**5: Oath of Allegiance**

"We're almost there," As the duo were walked beside each other, Clara pointed, "you surely seem to know your way around here. Do you live nearby?"

He responded, "I live only a block away, beneath the railroad,"

Dame School was located near River Thames and his home was northern, right beneath the train tracks. Many slums and factories were located there. Oliver preferred to call the outskirts of the borough, Poorchapel because he realized the closer you live to the borders, typically the poorer you were. These were poverty stricken areas because the poor were hardly seen  _or_  heard. The area consisted of nothing but dinky shops who rarely sold, hundreds of slums filled with thousands of unfortunate people and large factories that created unpleasant smog that made leaving Poorchapel whenever possible an ultimate blessing from God.

"Whenever I walk to Dame School, I try to take different routes because the same course becomes tedious," He didn't mention why enjoyable the longer walks were because of the time away from home. "I've an explicit map of Whitechapel in my head now,"

She confided, "And where does your explicit map direct us?"

"By the looks of it, Babylon Alley," he guessed while dodging younger children playing on the sidewalks. They looked past him and onto Clara. After recognizing her, they sheepishly smiled and curiously pointed at her. For a mere second, he forgot of her fame and believed her to be an average child but was quickly reminded of her reputation.

After waving at the children, she turned her focus back on him and said, "That's quite a crafty map, perhaps I should get myself one," She smirked. "Or does your knowledge on  _me_  help direct that map of yours? What do you know of me anyways?"

He easily answered, "I know you run a network of street urchins based in Babylon Alley," The longest alley stretching across Whitechapel that only children occupied. "Every child has heard your name whispered—"

"— Whispered? That's a shame, I always hoped my name to be publically spoken," They suddenly stopped trekking and he knew precisely why —  _where_  they stopped. She said, "But I can say you are correct…but why would I do that when I could just show you?"

While gesturing her hand over the alley that seemed to have no end, she announced, "Welcome to Babylon Alley! Whitechapel's cozy little home for street urchins," As they entered the alley, she ordered, "look around and tell me what you see,"

He saw children of all ages scattered along a narrow alley, talking amongst themselves. All were balanced in gender and wore drab gray clothing which didn't match their bright faces. There was light in their eyes, laughter in their voices. Some children were playing a game of tag, wildly chasing each other through the alley and others were throwing a ball at a wall. He never saw poor children so  _happy_.

"Oliver?" she piped when he hadn't answered.

His brows rose. "I see happy children,"

Clara's lips parted, pleased with the answer and firmly stated, "Almost all of these children worked at factories powered by child labour. They worked long hours with very little pay and most were not permitted to even leave the factory grounds," she paused, "every day was a cruel one. They used to wear sad faces, they used be underprivileged and abandoned,"

"Do they no longer work for the industry? How do they survive without an income?"

She shook her head. "No, all of them still have jobs. They couldn't survive without income, most are orphans after all. They continue to work at well-run factories but I encourage them to start other jobs like servants, street cleaners and so on,"

She challenged him and changed the subject, "— tell me, do you yourself work a factory?"

"No," Although there was no reason to, he felt embarrassed to say no. He sheepishly said, "My siblings work at a factory to provide for us while I attend Dame School,"

"You need not to feel embarrassed, Oliver, I'm not judging you, in fact, I'm happy you do not," She looked right through him. "Nobody here would judge you. I don't care if you go to school or work at a factory instead. You create your own destiny and if you're capable of helping others find theirs, that is true success,"

Again, those gears in her head were turning and he didn't know what to make of it. She tilted her head, proposing, "Walk with me, allow me to finish the full tour and we'll discuss this more."

_Discuss what?_  He mentally questioned but followed her through the Alley. He hesitated but eventually caved because his curiosity was too overwhelming — he wasn't one to be adventurous and reckless but following her through the alleyway made his heart race — in a good way.

/

In the next hour or so, the two children walked along Babylon Alley, discussing precisely how the network of urchins operated.

She showed him the layout of the alley and explained its significance. It was like any other Whitechapel alley, dark and dirty but since this one belonged to urchins, it had a youthful and innocent atmosphere with the children around. He was introduced to the orphans with thicker accents than his family. He paid extra attention when they spoke to understand what they said and although they were illiterate, they were surprisingly kind. He wished it was different for them in more ways than one. Perhaps he could teach them the basics of reading…

Many urchins actually lived in nooks of the alley, they survived through Clara who frequently brought them food and water. But he could only wonder how they survived the winters. Even in his one room home, there was a fireplace to keep them  _fairly_ warm — living in the streets during a London winter was a fortune for death. Bloody hell, he wouldn't be surprised if they were missing any fingers or toes.

But the most interesting fact he learned from Clara was that network was affiliated with the  _Assassins_.

The way their partnership worked, was in exchange of them rescuing children out of factories, the orphans provided them information regarding London — a key to their success. The reason Clara started this whole network was because 'Every children should forge their own future, create their own destiny — and that does not mean what their family wants.  _It's what they want.'_

Clara's main goal was to save children from factories but her side jobs for them as well were crucial in the network. For example, in order to give information to the Assassins, the children needed to spy and pickpocket who the Assassins newest target is. It was a tough task but it rewarded well. And no, she didn't out rightly pay her urchins but helped them immensely in other ways.

He was amazed such a young girl could be able to pull the entire network off. Clara O'Dea truly was incredible. Touring with her and learning what she did was surreal — almost unbelievable. What really left a lasting impression of him was that none of what she did was to benefit herself, it was  _all_ for others. Strangely, he felt comfortable with her as they walked together. Although power oozed out of her, she was charming. Charming enough that he trusted her enough to follow her throughout the unfamiliar area. She was full of wisdom and charisma — he couldn't help but be awestruck.

Oliver aspired to be like her.

However —

He still had one burning questioned left,  _why was he brought here?_

/

After the full tour, their feet tired and they sat atop wooden barrels and Oliver suddenly said, "Thank you again,"

She questioned, "For what?"

"In the alley, when John and his cronies planned to jump me and you helped scare them off. Who knows what would have happened if you didn't come in the nick of time," Unlike other boys his age, receiving help from a girl would damage their pride but he felt nothing but gratefulness.

"You don't need to thank me, I'm glad I helped or else I couldn't have brought you to Babylon Alley,"

He started, finding it the perfect time to ask, "That reminds, if you don't mind me asking — "

She finished with a smirk, "— why I've brought you here. Well, although I talk very highly of the urchins, not all of them are as  _peachy_. The alley may seem crowded to you but in reality it isn't. You see, I've  _lost_ many of my orphans,"

Horror flashed across his face as he slowly asked, "You  _lost_  them? As in they…"

"No! Nothing but their loyalty is dead," she bristled.

"What do you mean?"

She sighed and explained, "You know of the Blighters, correct? They are a Templar based gang and you can easily distinguish them by their ugliness and red clothing,"

"I know who you're talking about," He never came in encounter with the gang but always saw them from afar. They harassed innocent people and caused havoc but this year, their numbers dwindled and few were seen on the streets.

"Well, these god-forsaken Blighters have been stealing my children _._ Ever since their leader, Maxwell Roth died, many left the gang but now the few that are left are trying to increase their numbers again. All these orders come from their new leader who is kookier than their last one. These Blighters have been recruiting  _my_ children. They seduce them, persuading them to believe they will receive many benefits and shillings from the gang,"

So that was why John joined the Blighters.

He put a finger to his chin and drawled, "The Blighters have been stealing your orphans for their own dirty work, but the main problem is with all these orphans leaving you, you don't have enough children of your own on the streets. And without your ears, you don't have anything to report to the Assassins. No information — no children saved from factories,"

"Clever as ever, but you are correct," she huffed, "Even though all the Blighters speak are  _lies_. I try my best not to sound ignorant, I understand it sounds appealing to the children. They want to leave the poverty state — everybody does but I can't seem to convince the work is more dangerous than what it's worth,"

"But where do I come into play in all this?" he asked.

"I like you, I like your personality. You're intelligent but not too cocky. I — I just have a good feeling about you. An intuition, if you please," She stood and dusted her skirt. "Oliver, here is my proposal. What would you saying about joining my little band of orphans?"

He questioned, "You want me to join you? I can't lie, steal or do anything remotely like that. I don't want to. I'm no use to you if I can't do those things."

Oliver took in consider the sins the orphans committed when they stole — he couldn't do that, not even for her. God was always watching.

"No, in fact, I need a good rat, an eavesdropper who's intelligent as well. Muscles and speed can only go so far. All you would be doing is listening to conversations in the streets and reporting back. If my orphans ever see you in a sticky spot, they won't waste another second without aiding you. And remember, the Assassins will try to help as well," she softened, "even if you agree now, you shan't feel obligated to stay. It's not like I'll hunt you down if you quit — but I will be thoroughly disappointed."

"And who exactly would I be spying on?"

"Blighters," she said, "It's tough but not dangerous, and I trust you will be all right."

"What would I get out of this?"

"Other than helping children out of factories? Other than having a second family? What else more do you need?"

He quickly said, "Money, I need…money,"

She smiled. "Don't we all? How about this, I give you a shilling for each task that you successfully complete. It's little but it is something. C'mon, Oliver, I'm giving you a once in a lifetime opportunity. Any other orphan, in much worse conditions would die for this position," she paused, "what will it be?"

Oliver understood what she was trying to say, 'it's either this or the factory," and he knew saying no was the right answer but he was  _tired_.

Tired of going home to an ill father, tired of his sister's words, tired that the only person he cared for never came home. Most importantly, he was tired of being called privileged for never bringing a shilling in the house or being teased for liking reading.

That was why accepted Clara's spit shake and shook her hand. "Agreed, I'm in."

/

A week after Oliver joined Clara's band of orphans, his lifestyle changed a great deal. Every day after Dame School, he went to Babylon Alley to meet with her. Beforehand, he went straight home to sit with his sleeping-ill Papa but now he didn't come home until sunrise, before Lizzy came home and realized he was missing. So far, his secret was kept and hoped to keep it that way.

He was also correct about John and his cronies — they didn't bother him anymore. Although Clara had a secret looming over John's head that he was unaware of, he didn't need any dirt on him. He was curious — but not that curious. The last thing John said to him was, 'Think joining Clara will help you, don't ya? Don't get too comfortable with  _your new family_ , just wait and see for yourself, twig.' For a split second, he wondered what John meant from the warning.

But other than that, neither he nor his cronies spoke another word to him. They never dared to touch or even look at him. There were no more insults, pushing or bullying… and he was enjoying it.

During this time, Clara and Oliver spent a great deal of time together. She had been training him the right strategies to use when spying which were quite resourceful. Although she trained him for a week now, he still hadn't been assigned a job thus he wasn't paid.

But he found friends in the urchins and more importantly a friend in Clara.

They talked about John and his cronies and bullying history, he told her of the broken pencil and law incident — she chuckled at that one. He even talked about his family — something he was not used to talk about.

Truthfully, he was afraid  _not_  to tell her the entire truth. He had this odd idea that she would find out what he was hiding just by staring at him, staring past his brain. Keeping secrets wasn't his forte, simply ask Lizzy who pressured him enough to oil his mouth about his brother. In fact, Clara and Lizzy seemed to have some similar qualities. They both appeared to be hard-working, stubborn and a realist. Scary wasn't a word he would use to identify them but intimidating wasn't far off.

Yet, there was something different about Clara's aura that his sister didn't have. Clara had the confidence of a young success but the hope of an avid dreamer.

And she was a friend, his sister  _wasn't_.

/

A day before his first task, a man clad in black confidently walked into Babylon Alley and approached a few orphans. They seemed unafraid in his presence and laughed as he spoke. He seemed to have a good impression on them. Since he was far, Oliver was unable to see his distinct features other than he dressed fairly well and was likely a wealthy man. What business did a man like him acquire with urchins?

Since he was distracted, Clara urged, "Are you listening?" After no response, she followed his gaze to the man and immediately rolled her eyes.

She moved closer to him and covertly chattered, "The man you see over there is Mr. Frye, the highest ranked Assassin in London. He and twin sister were the ones who overtook London from the grasp of Templars by killing their Grand Master,"

" _He_ killed the Grandmaster? I never that he would've been  _that_ young," Even from afar, he could tell the Assassin was no way near middle-aged.

She scoffed, "Wait until you meet him, he acts  _even_  younger. A bloody child in a man's body,"

"Wait, I'm to meet him?" he uttered.

With a smirk, she dragged him by the arm towards the Assassin and called out, "Afternoon, Mr. Frye." He wore a dark leather tailcoat with a rich green vest underneath alongside some sort of dagger. On his belt and beside his coin pouch was the Brotherhood's insignia.

"Clara," he said, almost sarcastically, "always a pleasure,"

He looked at Oliver and teased, "This new  _protégée_?" Mr. Frye firmly looked at him and narrowed his eyes, looking at every inch of his face. Did he know him?

Oliver shakily asked, "Something wrong, sir?"

"It's nothing, it's just you look — familiar," he smirked before asking, "And what should I call you?"

"Oliver,"

"Nice name and  _nice_  to meet you, Oliver," he shook his hand, the grasp was nor hard or gentle. "I'm Jacob Frye,"

Oliver only smiled then looked at Clara. "I can leave if you wish, I do not mean to disturb," he said, taking a couple steps backwards.

She stopped him. "Stay, it's a good example of what we do," she spoke to Mr. Frye, "I assume you're here about that Templar,"

"Right-o, tell me what you and your urchins' wax moth ears have heard,"

Clara said, "As we all know, Forge doesn't have any family, no wife, no children — nothing," Who was the Templar 'Forge'? "He lives alone in huge, lonely estate aside from his servants and workers. We can only wonder how much loneliness he can really endure. He must be very  _frustrated,"_

"Get to it, Clara," Mr. Frye urged impatiently, "I have matters to attend to,"

She rolled her eyes once again. "My orphans have spotted Forge in a Whitechapel whorehouse many times. He often goes to a particular brothel called Sanctuary. We don't know  _why_  he goes or  _when_  however, we usually spot him on weekdays,"

"That doesn't make sense. Why would he go all the way from Westminster to Whitechapel for  _one brothel_? He's possibly the richest man in London, he could call all the whores in the city to his house,"

"I believe he has a favourite whore — a regular," she said,

Mr. Frye stated, "Then she must be very good at her job if she can make a wealthy man travel all the way to Whitechapel for her. But why wouldn't the bloke simply wife her, that's every poor women's dream,"

"That's all we have at the moment. It looks like you'll need to figure out the rest by yourself,"

He asked, "Do you have an idea how he goes about Whitechapel?"

"I heard he goes by carriage and the rumour of him avoiding the public is that he —  _disguises himself_. I'm not too sure how  _true_  that is,"

"Disguises himself, Pardon? How is that even possible? The man has reporters on his lawn day and night," Mr. Frye retorted.

"As I said before, that's all we know. It's tough receiving information on the bloke, he's a ghost to the public,"

Before leaving, Mr. Frye said, "Then I must go ghost hunting."

/

Jacob waited until nightfall to enter Sanctuary.

He internally snickered when he first heard the name of the brothel. A brothel being called something so…holy was already a joke itself.

Entering Sanctuary, the scent of lavender and vanilla immediately filled his nostrils. A roaring fireplace in the dead center casted light upon the dark house accented with mahogany and ember. Brown bear rugs were placed atop the floors made of oak and the curtains without windows underneath were of dark velvet. The brothel was warm compared to the streets and because of the heat and his heavy layers of clothing, Jacob's hands clammed. Or perhaps that was with nerves. Finally, the tip Clara gave to him actually served a purpose in his investigation but it was still had holes. But it was a start and the first piece of information received on Forge thus he must see it through.

Yet this wasn't  _his_  type of work. He was used to brawling to get his way, not persuasion. Which was exactly what he needed to do to receive the intel he needed. Splendid.

The brothel was fairly scarce tonight, likely because it was weekday therefore many prostitutes were wandering around, looking for a wealthy catch. On the leather couches, a man had a few skimpily dressed prostitutes on his laps, caressing them and whispering sweet nothings in their ears.

Jacob spared no glance at them as he passed towards the front desk. Although he was controlling — or trying to — himself from keeping focus, a prostitute came in his direction. She was wearing a white corset with a golden mask with tiny gems that made Jacob wonder how much they were actually paid a night. As she twirled to him, she smiled at him and dangerously laid a lingering hand on his chest. Lifting her smile even more, she tugged on his arm for suggestion and, and —

_No, no, no,_  Jacob reminded himself as he gently pushed her away. He wasn't there to play. She shrugged her shoulders and disappeared into the velvet atmosphere, never glancing back at him.

"Welcome to Sanctuary," the female dressed in a purple robe called to him in a soothing, syrupy voice as Jacob rested a hand atop the wooden front desk. She said, "I see you don't desire one of our bests but do not worry sweetheart, I'm certain we have something to your liking. What can I get you?"

Jacob grinned, working his charm. "I'm looking for something-"

The lady interrupted him, "We have it all; blonde, brunette, curvy, skinny. Name it and we have it," After a small pause, she offered, "for a higher price, we also have a few virgins _._  Purely untainted," He could only guess how old the virgins were. It appalled him.

"Sounds tempting," he said while leaning against the desk, "but I'm not here for fun."

"Everyone is allowed a little fun here and there. C'mon, sweetheart, after one of our girls, you won't forget it, I insist."

She was trying hard but he would simply try harder. "I really can't tonight, perhaps another. I was hoping to make an appointment for next week?"

"Of course," she said as she opened the book. A log of the Sanctuary's clients. The log Jacob needed. He couldn't steal it, it was too large and heavy for him to simply carry out. And the lady was too focused on him, there was no way she was going to leave him alone.

She asked, "What about the Thursday evening at nine?"

Mindlessly, he agreed, "Yes, yes, sounds fine." He was too distracted trying to receive a good look at the book. He used his vision to find Timothy Forge's name scrawled on the log but no avail. Jacob then remembered what Clara said about how Forge could have a 'favourite'.

"Could you book me with your best?" Jacob had no intention of actually sleeping with the woman he booked a night with. When the night came, he was going to interrogate her and if she wasn't the favourite of Forge, he was going to book a night with every bloody whore in the brothel to get what he wanted. Jacob couldn't let this investigation fall apart like the others. Time was running out.

"It will cost a bit more but is certainly doable," she flipped to a new page, "and your name?"

"Jacob Frye,"

He watched the women scribble down his name and she said, "I'll hope to see you next Thursday then, Mr. Frye,"

After he bid his farewell, he left Sanctuary, stepping into the warm nights. The streets were empty except for a man — no, a girl, a small girl with a cloak walking. As she neared him, their eyes met.

The pickpocket.


	6. A Father's Mercy

**6: A Father's Mercy**

The pickpocket's clear gray eyes immediately narrowed at him with distaste. Jacob didn't know whether the disgust rooted from his mere presence or the fact he just exited a brothel or perchance  _both_.

A workers cap covered her head instead of the hood, allowing her ash brown hair hang over her narrow shoulders like tangled threads of string from a mill. Her overly thin figure wore a shabby black cloak along with charcoal ribbed pants that were the wrong size, having tucked them into her worn boots.

Her clothes were of a typical Whitechapel resident who worked a long shift. Bloody hell, the girl had so much soot on her she looked more like a walking lump of coal than a person.

Jacob called out, "Well, well, if it isn't the pickpocket. Finally taking a break from thieving around?"

Her stare hardened as she crossed her dirty hands over her small chest. "No, but you're clearly taking a break from mindlessly wandering Whitechapel," she mocked in a confident voice while looking behind his shoulder at Sanctuary and smirked, "A sleazy man and the finest prostitutes in London, why ain't I surprised?"

That was the pickpocket, no damn doubt about it. Forget her face, she was easily recognized by her piercing tongue and speedy responses which she always seemed to conduct even during the last time they spoke — even after Jacob killed the foul sod who about to rape her. He knew this occurred all the time but it was still disturbing. Not the killing — he was used that, hell, even the girl wasn't disgusted by the gore but to think if he hadn't investigated the scream, if he came only a moment later, something horrid without excuse was to happen.

"A humble hello would've sufficed," Jacob bristled, taking short steps forward while gesturing to the brothel, "Besides I wasn't —"

She interjected, "— what you do on a Thursday night ain't my concern, but it turns my gears why a class man like you enjoys spending this much time in Whitechapel. Shouldn't you shivvy along to the Strand?" She raised her brow, or at least he thought it was her brow; there was so much soot on her forward it was hard to tell. The girl persisted, "No, not the Strand? Westminster then? You do look like a Westminster lad."

She was  _taunting_ him.

He sarcastically retorted, "I'm flattered you think of me as successful," he said, "And I'm here on business from the  _City of London_."

She chuckled, "Fucking whores at brothels has got to be a pleasurable business trip." He mentally scolded himself for giving her the easy retort but he didn't mind fueling her fire. It amused him to watch the tiny girl with the dirty mouth talk like a goon. "I'll leave you to your  _business trip_  then." She looked along the empty street and turned on her heel but Jacob wasn't letting her leave that easy.

Their conversation only started.

"Were the shillings in the pouch enough for the tonic? Is your father showing signs of recovery?"

He swore her neck ticked to the side before she narrowed her eyes. And through clenched teeth, she answered, "They were, yes and the recovery is smooth," A lie. God, she needed lessons on telling a successful lie. Perhaps he should offer, oh, that would cause steam in her ears.

"Really, ever since I gave you my pouch, I've been wondering if your ill father was just a story you stringed up to trick me or actually the truth. You don't seem the trustworthy type."

"Didn't you say I was a bad liar?"

"You  _are_  a bad liar and but you don't seem  _untrustworthy_."

She rolled her eyes and said, "My mistake, then — Assassin, you can take my word or not but I'm done with this nonsense. I feel stupid for thinking I'd never meet with you again. I knew this'd come bite me in the arse later," she frustratingly asked, "Tell it; what'd you want?"

Cut to the chase, shall we?

When Jacob first gave the girl his pouch, he honestly didn't expect anything in return even if he told her to 'consider it a loan'. And like her, he didn't think they would cross paths again. Who knew Whitechapel was so small in the first place? But just like him, the statement wasn't supposed to be taken seriously but it seemed it became a burden on her shoulders.

He could tell her he didn't want anything from her but he had two problems; one, she probably wouldn't believe him — she didn't seem the kind of girl to forget her debts. And two, now that he thought of it, he really could use her for his benefit — mostly to save his time.

If she walked passed Sanctuary every night from her factory job, she was bound to spot a specific men entering or exiting. That  _specific man_  had probably already been spotted by her but now it was a matter of her telling him the exact time and date.

Jacob devilishly smiled and said, "I want and need a lot of things and you're assistance is surprisingly one of them."

"Good wording, now if you have the bottle to tell me what you want, you might as well get on with it. I'm pressed for time and frankly, you're wasting it."

Jacob faked winced. "If you were any more polite, I think I'd ask you to marry me," he waved his hand off after he received a glare from her. He nodded his head. "Okay, Miss Impatient, I'll get to it. It's a simple task; whenever you walk past Sanctuary at night, look for a man for me."

She laughed. "Never pegged you to swing for both sides."

Swing for both sides? Wha— oh.

"Would you consider swinging to my side?" Jacob challenged.

She dropped the subject, "Am I supposed to look for  _half of London?_ Many men walk in and out of that brothel."

"He's tall, taller than I, skinnier. He should be fairly well-dressed with a clean face."

She scoffed, "If you want me to spy for you, then at the very least, give me a description isn't arse.  _Give me the man's bloody name_."

Jacob offered again, "Did I mention he was tall?"

Though the girl did owe him, Jacob didn't trust her enough to tell him who he was. It would be trouble for both of them. He sighed, "He wears the Templar seal."

"So he's a Templar?"

"How about this; I'll you exactly who he is and what he does after you find him." Likely a bluff, but he hadn't made up his mind yet. "I've given you more than I should have. Hopefully you won't waste it—"

"—I'll find him," she determinedly said, "And when I do?"

Jacob finished, "—I'll find you."

She suddenly said, "I'm sort of surprised that you're giving me this job."

"Why? It's not like I couldn't tell if you were lying."

"It's not that. We don't know each other, what if I turn against you and tell him you're looking for him."

He simply said, "He already knows I am."

" _Brill_."

"Perhaps this will be the start of a beautiful partnership. And as protocol calls, you're supposed to know the name of your partner," Jacob drawled out, raising his brows and slightly lifting his hands suggestively but no response. He disappointedly acknowledged, "You're supposed to tell me your name,"

The unnamed girl said coldly, "Why? I don't care for yours and we are  _not_  partners. One job, that's it."

"The name is Jacob Frye," he interrupted.

Moments later, she stood silent, as if she was pondering if she should tell him her name after all. He didn't except the name to come easy for him so after a burst of silence, he copied her, beginning with, "If you won't tell me yours, I have no other choice  _but_  to start guessing. Are you a Mary? Ruth? Margaret? Helen? You look like a Helen— I know a Helen that looks exactly like you. Nice girl, truly but doesn't have the best table manners."

While rolling her eyes, she finally announced, "—Elizabeth. Blimey, my name's Elizabeth,"

He didn't believe the name matched.  _Elizabeth's_  were the colourful daughters of wealthy businessman, they were socialites who lived in the Strand and drank tea out of intricately painted cups and gossiped like it was their occupation.

She obviously wasn't the type nor  _looked_ the type.

Although she was young, she had linear wrinkles on her forehead above her slightly tilted upwards eyes and straight nose. All of her features her sharp, her jaw could cut like any kukri and her cheeks resulting from lack of fat were hollow. Even with the soot and dirt that covered her skin like a pigment, he didn'tfind her face unpleasant — in fact, he thought quite the opposite.

Jacob asked, "No last name?"

"Just Elizabeth,"

"Yet you know  _mine_ ,"

"Because  _you_ gave it to me," she said, "I had no purpose for it,"

He shrugged his shoulders and huffed, "Fair enough," he stroked another topic, "Then at the very least, would you allow me to walk you home? These streets really aren't safe for girls your age."

"Why should I fear the streets? It's the creepy bastards who wouldn't even be a problem if they learned to keep both their pants and mouths zipped."

Jacob laughed. "I like that; I think I'll use that someday." He said, "I'm heading to Whitechapel station and I'm guessing that's where you're going as well because — "

"— Because that's where all the slums are?"

"Well, I was going to say that this street only leads one way but I suppose so, yes."

She looked as if she would regret this later but said, "I'll walk  _you_  to the station, see you off on your train and then head home  _alone_. Don't bother trying anything too because —"

"— you'll gut me like a pig?"

Elizabeth smirked. "Finally getting it, I see."

Jacob only hummed, "After you, love,"

/

"That's all for today. See you tomorrow, Oliver," Clara said with a wide smile as the youngest Whittock waved and left Babylon Alley.

He had been working with Clara and her urchins for a little over three weeks now and he thoroughly enjoyed it. Her network wasn't the most orderly but so far, everything ran smoothly. Oliver rapidly learned the lay of the land and oddly became very good at hiding in unexpected places.

His size was always an insecurity but he coincidentally learned to use it to his advantage. He was able to hide in barrels, behind columns and he even dared to hide in a carriage once! It didn't really turn out to be a smart idea considering the carriage eventually took off and he wasn't able to exit until it stopped in Southwark to pick an elderly couple up and he escaped when they weren't looking but he was still stranded, lost in the new borough. It was the most he'd walked in his entire life. He was lost several times even when he asked for directions constantly.

But it was the best day ever.

The jobs he was tasked with were as easy as pegged to be but as he became more experienced, he took on more difficult tasks. It was mostly eavesdropping at first while pretending to play with a ball in hearing distance. It was ridiculously easy  _and_ useless since all of the Blighters conversations were random. One was of how many  _women_  they could take at once. He was joyful when Clara upgraded him to other jobs that were neither hard nor easy. It was espionage, spying on Blighters meetings. There was more stealth and anxiety but he didn't mind — after all, it gave him something to do and extra shillings in his pocket.

While humming to himself, Oliver approached the door to his home and digged his pack for the key. Rummaging through mostly books and pencils, he touched the cold metal and fished it up. He put the key through the hole and fumbled but there was no click. Why was there no click? If the door was locked, a loud click always erupted after it was opened, unless…

A slow second later, he quietly opened the already opened door. There was no coughing, no heavy breathing and no snoring like usual.

It was pure silence.

Something was wrong but he didn't know exactly what it was until he glanced over at Papa who turned a terrible shade of white which contrasted with the vivid pool of blood staining the cushion where his slit neck laid still.

/

Elizabeth used the collar of her loosely-fitted white-turned gray shirt to wipe sweat on her face off. The burner's dancing flames caused her body to feel a dozen degrees higher than normal and she was beginning to feel lightweight but she had no other choice but to suck it up.

She had six more hours of hard labour.

Piling coal into the burner, she suddenly heard little footsteps approaching her direction like an echo. They didn't let children run in the factories. She looked for the running boy and stuck her shovel in the remaining pile of coal. If the boy didn't stop running amuck, he would be kicked out or even worse, bump into a machine that could kill him.

"Lizzy!" the boy called her name and she realized the boy was her little brother. He was looking for her, but why?

Oliver looked as if he ran from the Strand to Whitechapel with the beads of sweat dripping off his forehead and the heavy heaves of air entering his small lungs. His widened eyes met hers and his face was pale even though she knew he just ran.

He looked horrified as he sprinted to her and said three little, crashing words, "Papa's been murdered."

She didn't ask questions.

There was too much horror on his face for it to be a joke and the boy was too virtuous, he  _never lied._

Elizabeth quickly ran home from the factory while holding onto her brother's wrist to make sure he was keeping up. She didn't bother explaining her sudden absence to the new foreman or ask someone to cover her shift. She didn't care.

By the time they reached the door, Oliver was hysterically crying along with the exasperated breathing from the sprinting to make an abnormal cough but that sound, like all the others were silenced. She didn't hear the door slam on the wall when she harshly opened the door, nor the fire crackling in the place even though it was still in full fumes.

She abruptly went rigid as she stared at the corpse once called her father.

"H-he's dead, Lizzy, how is he dead? W-who would do this?"

Elizabeth couldn't bring herself to tell him 'it was going to be okay' because she knew this time, it wasn't.

Backing away, she immediately took the crying Oliver in her arms, shielding his face from the scene. He didn't resist and cried into her ribs instead while tightly holding onto her shirt. As she held him, her eyes brimmed with tears couldn't disconnect from Papa.

She wasn't focused enough to examine his body yet.

Blankly, she stared. Nothing came into mind.

Except for one.

She let go of her brother as she approached Papa's dead body but her eyes were on something else. His hands.

Because something was in them.

Slowly, she touched his cold curled fingers with her warm ones and picked them up to reveal a shiny circular metal underneath; a pocket watch. It wasn't Papa's, he never owned anything like this. It wasn't a cheap watch, it was a beautifully crafted gold with intricate designs of a knight on the back but eerily, it was broken. The hands were missing, taken out beneath the glass face.

The killer gave the watch to Papa because…

His time was over; he had no time to be read.

/

The Whittock sister rhythmically tapped her foot on the cement floor as she examined her father's dead body and massaged the pocket watch in between her fingers.

Oliver's cries finally stopped an hour ago and was now deeply breathing. His shirt and hers were damp from his tears. He was curled with his knees to his chest in the corner, looking into the space between. Elizabeth had told him to look away but she would occasionally catch his eyes wandering to the body.

Although he never looked fresh, the boy looked sick. He wouldn't even talk to Elizabeth.

The fire died and the smell of fresh blood became evident. It was just another reminder he was dead — fucking dead. Bloody hell, she wasn't an idiot. Papa was already a  _dead man_. The tonic wasn't working. She knew that the first week of giving it to him. He was at dying age, nearing fifty and she can't revive the dead. Nobody could. Even he knew death was nearing him by discussing it with her. Elizabeth didn't reject it but she always hoped Papa to go peacefully in deep slumber.

He wasn't much of a man but he  _did_ deserve that.

Not the murder he received.

They used a dagger, neither a knife nor blade to slit his throat. A knife would have to be multiple cuts and a blade was too thin for this thick of a cut. The cut was deeper and motioned from left to right in one swift motion. As expected, the weapon of murder was nowhere to be seen. She already inspected his body for other threats and the house if they took anything but everything was as is.

It wasn't a robbery. They had nothing to rob. So what was it?

Elizabeth's feelings were a mixture of rage and curiosity. An odd mixture which creates the pissiest mood of all. It wasn't the actual death of Papa that caused this feeling, it was the murder.

Who was enough of Papa's enemy to kill him? He was already ill. Who would go these lengths to quicken the process? A vendetta?

Unless Papa knew something. Something no one should've knew.

And the stupid pocket watch to indicate the end of his time, pissed her off and she wished to smash it against the wall but couldn't. It was the only lead she had.

Elizabeth was ready to dedicate her time to this… but there was someone she had to find before.

Will had the right to know Papa died and she had not foggiest what to do with the body.

She would find the bastard who did this and find all the answers.

For Will.

For Oliver.

For herself.

She wouldn't let this go until the day she died.

Throwing the bloody blanket over the dead body, Elizabeth pocketed the watch and left the house, leaving the shocked Oliver alone to find her older brother.

/

She crossed the street, nearing Whitechapel's largest and notorious pub, Thistle & Crown as the strong scent of whisky and baked goods entered the girl's nostrils. The grub and drinks were favored because of their affordable cost yet good taste. The company was diverse, everybody from children to whores to businessmen spent many forgetful nights here.

Pubs. Pubs and brothels; what Whitechapel was known for.

Elizabeth rarely bought food here but used to come here for a regular pint of whisky with Will. It was a tradition when they were merely newly teenagers. Drink after factory work and repeat. Although she lessened her arrivals, she believed he still came daily unless his  _gang_  took the time away.

He better be there and today should be no different. The thought of starting a one-man search party for him was frustrating.

She passed through the opened doorway and immediately looked for Will. It was a two-level establishment with the bar on the ground level and the dining above overlooking by a balcony. The walls, floors, chairs, tables and counter were all made of rich mahogany wood. Since it was broad daylight, they opened the windows for natural light instead of lighting the candle chandeliers. A few barrels filled with beer stood in the back beside the bored looking bartenders.

She'd search the upper level after the bar. Will wasn't in sight but she might as well ask around.

Elizabeth took a seat on the bar chair few seats down to a woman clad in green. Obviously, a Rook but she wasn't able to receive a proper look at her face. If the bartender didn't have an idea where Will was, the Rook was to be asked next. Elizabeth knew Will was fairly new to their gang but if anything was significant about her brother, it was that he knew how to make a helluva impression.

"What I get ya, girl?" A short, large bellied bartender asked from behind the counter. She didn't recognize him from the various times she used to come. It's been a long time, hadn't it?

She said, "I'm looking for someone who comes here often. A blonde boy with long tied hair. Named William, 'Will' for short. Seen him 'round here?"

"Perhaps, perhaps not," he offered with a sly smirk, "A few shillings may loosen my lips."

The prick wouldn't get anything from her.

In a feminine, light voice, the Rook that sat near interrupted their conversation, "You know Will? William Whittock?"

His last name, too? Only  _her_ older brother would be unfazed by telling others his lineage.

She ignored the bartender and turned towards the Rook. She was a young girl, likely Elizabeth's age, give or take a year. She was pretty, with long blonde hair braided underneath her cap and hazel eyes.

"We don't look it," Elizabeth continued, "but he's my brother. Seems like you know where he is?"

"That, I do." The Rook lended out her small hand and Elizabeth took it. "Mary, by the way."

"Elizabeth."

She didn't look like a Mary. Mary's weren't usually pretty and nice, everything like the Rook. But Elizabeth could say the say regarding herself. At first, Elizabeth was a perfect name choice for an heiress but now it seemed improper for her position now.

A bloody orphan.

Mary agreed, "Follow me."

She had no other choice but to. Elizabeth kept quiet as she followed Mary out T&C and towards a nearby alley.

Suddenly, the Rook said, "It's odd. Will never mentioned a sister." Of course he hadn't. Soon, the girl pointed, "Oh, there he is."

"There he is," Elizabeth confirmed, looking at him finally after months. His clothing was the generic Rook uniform, similar to all of the rest; a green waist coat, beige trousers and a shabby cap. It still baffled her he joined a gang. What made him think he was cut out for around in a gang? And what the hell did he know about fighting anyway?

The warm sun shined upon his blonde locks that were loosely tied behind his back with a green ribbon. She saw his vivid blue eyes acquired from Mama. Well, she could only guess it was maternal — she didn't remember what Mum looked like but knew he resembled nothing of Papa. Instead of the sharp, angular features Papa, Elizabeth and Oliver had, Will had soft skin and rosy cheeks and a wide-set jaw.

Inner and outer, he was considered the beauty of the Whittocks.

Looking at Will, she tried to remember when the last time she saw him was. Seven months, she thought that in the meanwhile he was busy drowning himself in cups of whisky on the rocks. She thought he was a drunk but she wasn't more wrong. He was no longer the scrawny and lanky eighteen year-old boy she remembered but a mature young man.

He gained at least thirty pounds of muscle. How he managed that was beyond her.

He was starving seven months ago along with her when he was — acted her older brother.

But she wasn't fooled. No matter how mature Will looked now, he was still hopeful, too trusting and helpful. A fool who through away his good factory job to join a fucking gang.

He didn't change, only his look did.

Mary nudged her. "Will you not to approach him?"

Elizabeth didn't look at her as her feet brought her close to Will until he finally caught her presence.

"Elizabeth!" he exclaimed with an opening smile from ear to ear. He rushed towards her and embraced her. It was like hugging a stranger. "What're you doing here?"

After silence, he furrowed his brows, asking, "Elizabeth, what's wrong?"

Immediately, without pleasantries, she announced, "Our father's dead."


	7. Genesis

**7: Genesis**

"Allow me to recall this once again," Will blinked, clearly becoming overwhelmed by the turmoil of events his sister explained to him. "Oliver came home from school and found Papa in bed with a slit throat but  _nothing, absolutely nothing_  was taken?"

"Everything was as is; there was nothing worth stealing anyways," she said, "Will, this wasn't simply an accident. Hell, it wasn't even a mindless killing; it was an assassination."

Visibly confused, he shook his head and sighed, "I don't understand it. He had no fortune, no power," All true. The only thing he had was a foot in the grave. "Why would  _he_  be targeted?"

She wondered the exact same thing. Papa was a wealthy businessman who once had fortune and power but that was no longer. Elizabeth only remembered him as that poor ill man well on his way to death. But he had an entire life before that — a rich, privileged life with Mum.

Elizabeth had no clue what kind of man he was during that time.

He must've been influential. He must've made allies  _and_  enemies.

Perhaps waiting for Papa to die off was too long or they felt the need to do it themselves. She was beginning to learn a lot about personal vendettas and revenge and it was the only plausible reason why. Yet it still didn't occur to her the precise motive or the perpetrator.

After all, she only had  _one_  piece of evidence.

"There's something you should see," she dug the pocket watch and gave it to Will. His fingers closed around the chain as he held it up towards the sun. "I found it Papa's hands and I know for a fact it didn't belong to him. I think the killer placed in his hands as a…I'm not sure — a death token? I believe it's a message of some sort."

He pointed, "Papa's time has ended so there's no time to read." He made dim decisions but Will was never a dim boy.

"Indeed," Elizabeth agreed as she watched Will examine the pocket watch more closely, turning the face over. Brows furrowed, he squinted at the intricate knight then looked at her with a surprised face.

He asked, "You don't recognize the knight?" She shook her head and he showed her the knight in shining armour while saying, "This knight symbol belongs to  _Templars_."

Elizabeth grabbed the pocket watch and stared at the knight. The symbol didn't look familiar to her at all. How did Will recognize it? She questioned, "How do you know for sure?"

"The knight has always been connected to Templars and I'm sure I saw this symbol along with it."

She scoffed, "Templars? What business did a Templar have with Papa?"

And in that moment, Will and Elizabeth stared at each other, fully acknowledging they knew nothing of their Papa.

"Who knows what Papa's life was like before poverty and illness," he noted. "What about a journal, did Papa keep a diary? Do you know any of the names of his friends or even better — his employees? They should know a thing or two."

When they were kicked out of their rich home, everything was left in the house except for what was on their bodies. She doubted the new owners of the house kept their belongings. But luckily, she remembered something of significance.

"Talk to Isambard Brunel."

"Who's Isambard Brunel?" Will asked, confused for a moment before realising who she was talking about and a grin eloped on his face. Matter-of-factly, he repeated, "Isambard Brunel. Of course, he helped Papa build the blueprints for the factory machines. I'll see him immediately!"

She suggested, "I could come as well."

He shook his head quickly. Too quickly. "I don't think that'd be needed, Mr. Brunel remembers me as a boy and I believe I can ease him into talking."

She tilted her head. "But I couldn't?"

He patted her shoulder and said, "You know what I mean, Elizabeth. Now hand me the pocket watch because I can't go empty handed, can I? I'll get him to look at it." Slowly, she handed Will the pocket watch. It wasn't as if she was against the idea but it felt odd to see it pass onto another.

He'd better not lose it.

"I'll proceed to Lambeth soon," he announced while pocketing the broken watch and finally asking, "Shall we take care of the body now?"

It sent chills down her spine. She'd seen many street deaths but never was obliged to actually 'take care' of the body. But this wasn't just any dead body, it was her father's.

Luckily, unless Will didn't offer to pay for his casket — she didn't ask where the money came from — Papa would have been dumped into the rotting pit along with the low-life poor because she wouldn't be able to afford anything else.

"Indeed, Oliver must've stopped balling and is waiting for us about now."

Will's face hardened and his haw slightly dropped. He incredulously asked, "You left him at the house?"

"Where else would he be?" The boy looked too saddened to even walk.

"Anywhere else his dead father was! I can't believe you left the child alone with a dead body. Especially his  _father's._ "

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and said, "He was too weak to move." She was tired of treating Oliver like an infant. With Papa's death, this was a good time for him mature anyways.

"Then carry him," he explained harshly, "he's already horrified as is. He discovered the body after all."

Many things came into her to say but instead chose, "I don't feel like talking about this anymore. Let's just go get him so you can ask him about his 'trauma' instead of me." She began to walk but Will caught her arm and she quickly shook it off.

"What?"

He looked her dead in the eyes, saying, "After we take care of Papa, Oliver's leaving to live with me. I share a flat with a few other Rooks and they wouldn't mind. That all right?"

Was he daft? He had not the foggiest what taking care of an eleven year-old boy was like. He needed to be brought food and water, sheltered and clothed. Will was in a gang, he was the least qualified to take care of his younger brother.

_But Will was his favourite. He always liked him more._

Although she wanted to reject the idea, she said, "It's a done deal."

Will offered a smile that didn't reach his eyes as he finally took the reins of the Rooks carriage and rode in silence to the slum.

/

"Still has the rotten egg smell, I see," Will said as he walked through the hallway of the slum. "Although, I think it adds to the  _charm._ "

Whatever charm that may be. This place was second least charming place she'd ever been — right above the bloody factory. Leaving this place was like taking a breath of fresh air but now, these hallways felt more suffocating than ever.

"It's not really my cup of tea," Elizabeth responded while opening the door to the house.

Papa's hidden corpse was as she left it as was Oliver, who, was still sitting on the floor, staring blankly. But when Will entered, he looked up and something twinkled in his eyes and not a moment later, the brothers embraced each other. She couldn't keep her eyes on them. After they separated, Will patted his back and crouched to his level, looked into his eyes and comforted him. Her younger brother nodded and listened to Will's serene words.

It was obvious he was more comfortable in his presence. Perhaps him moving in with Will was better this way.

Suddenly, after their conversation was finished, Oliver gave Elizabeth a small sad smile and a quiet goodbye before leaving the house.

"Where'd you sent him off to?"

He said, "I sent him with a friend of mine. Mary's waiting outside and will show him home." Ah yes, the pretty blonde from T&C — exactly his type. There must have been something there, considering they live together.

"So what will you after we take care of the body? Because I doubt you're staying here any longer." Will stated, leaning against the doorframe while Elizabeth stood centre of the house. It felt utterly empty.

"For starters, I'll be heading to T&C to heavily drink and mourn my father's death," she dryly chucked, "Welcome to orphanhood, brother. Then perhaps I'll pull a William Whittock and disappear, possibly join a gang and never visit. You know the protocol."

"Seriously, Elizabeth."

She sighed, "I don't know  _what_  I'll do or  _where_  I go but I know I can't restrict myself here."

He worriedly said, "Please be careful. We both know the streets aren't kind."

"I need to do this alone, Will, let me do this."

"Simply promise me you will show your face around every so often?" He was concerned. It surprised her. But thought it was unneeded. She didn't need concern, she never did.

"I promise," she said, "Now, let's shove Papa in casket so I can leave this hellhole? Shall we?"

/

When Jacob Frye entered Thistle & Crown, he didn't except to see Elizabeth there…absolutely smashed and in a heated argument with two bulky just-as-drunk lads. One large nosed, the other bald. It became even worse when the drunken girl pulled a cheap dagger on them. Quite bottle that girl has.

The people at the pub surrounded them and watched the scene take place. Some were even making bets who would black out first.

The lads laughed in disbelief and tried to push her back but she quickly dodged it and swung…but missed. Likely because she couldn't even see straight. Jacob fought drunk many times. It wasn't easy. Hand to eye coordination always became a blur. The lads began to rush her but oddly, she began dodging their hits while crookedly running backwards.

The part that made Jacob chuckle was while Elizabeth was doing so, she had this stupid, wide grin on her face. Who knew she was a  _happy_  drunk?

He would've stepped in. He really would've helped but the sight was too amusing. Plus, she seemed to hold out fine on her own and things didn't go completely out of hand  _yet_.

After a few minutes of cat and mouse. Elizabeth suddenly exclaimed while atop the bar counter, "One last chance to beg mercy, lads!"

In response, 'large nose' spat at her and said, "Over our dead body, bitch."

"Your call," she shrugged while twisting the knife in her hand. Wait, was she — shite. But before Jacob could stop her, the knife already aimed, was thrown out her hand and precisely hit the man in the eye. That precision was admirable, where did she learn — focus, Jacob! It was time to act before she was strangled by the bald lad.

"Round one to myself!" she exclaimed.

The other lad yelled, "I'm going to gut you like a pig!"

"Are you sure you're able to do that without honking?" she widened her eyes. "You don't look too good. Need a bucket?" In response, the very angry and  _very bald_  man stormed towards her and tried to pull her off the counter but she swatted his hands away with her feet.

Jacob knew the man was going to kill her without a plea which was why he pushed through the crowd and slowly approached the man. He tapped on his shoulder and when the lad turned around, he punched him straight in the jaw. Staggering back, he jabbed with his brass knuckles several more times before baldy fell back.

Among the counter, Elizabeth laughed, "Round two to Jacob Frye!"

The pub people began screaming in danger, fearing they would be next. It was time to bolt.

Jacob walked to Elizabeth, who was still standing on the counter, drinking her god-knows-what-number drink that wasn't even hers.

"Need some help getting down from there, love?" he drawled with a grin.

Waving him off, she said, "I'm fine," she hopped off the counter and dusted her clean clothes. She already reeked of whisky. "I've been jumping off things since I was seven."

"Brill, why don't you tell me more about it outside?" Jacob grabbed her arm and dragged her outside.

Once out, she narrowed her eyes and crossed her shoulders. "You're not a rapist, are you?"

"It's me. Jacob."

"My question still stands."

"I'm taking you home."

She tugged on his arm, "I c-can't go home."

"Why not?"

"I don't have a home,"

"You don't? But I thought —"

"I  _did_ , three days ago, I  _did_."

"What about your family?"

She slurred quickly, "They're dead, well, not my brothers. My parents are though. Mum dead. Papa dead."

"I-Im sorry, I hadn't known."

"He was  _murdered_ too! A slit throat and death token. Everything! The killer did a damn good job. But now it's my fucking job to find him and show what a damn  _great_  job really is."

Her ill father was  _murdered_? What in the bloody hell?

Even though he was dragging her, she managed to stop her heels and abruptly bent over. Here came the only post-drinking downfall. She green-faced glanced at him once before honking on the street. He avoided looking at the foul mixture as he grabbed a handful of her hair and held it while rubbing her back in circular motions.

"Feel better?" he asked her after she was finished moments later.

She wiped her mouth and said, "Feel  _tired_." Her eyelids suddenly closed halfway as she began to stagger forwards, sleepily. She almost crashed into the ground if Jacob hadn't grabbed her waist. She didn't pull out of his grasp immediately; instead, she fell into his chest, fully shutting her eyes.

He couldn't walk her to his train like this. Jacob looped his arms under her knees and her shoulders, carrying her bridal style. Light as a feather, as expected.

"Let me down," she slurred, "I can walk, I swear."

"No can do, Elizabeth. If I let you down, you're going to fall asleep in the middle of the road and end up being run over by a horse carriage. A rough  _and_ messy way to go."

She quietly asked, "Where are we going then?"

"My train, remember it?"

Elizabeth was half-fast sleeping and only nodded her head. She was going to sleep soon but he had to ask her one thing, "Who was your father?" After no response, he slightly shook her and she groaned.

"The name of your father, Elizabeth," he firmly asked.

Before falling fast asleep, she yawned, "Frank Whittock."

Did she just say Frank Whittock?

Former owner of Whittock and Forge Steel Frank Whittock?

_Master Assassin Frank Whittock?_

/

After he placed the fast asleep, drooling girl into Evie's old bed in her carriage, he shut the carriage door and exited. In the next cart, he rummaged through every Assassin related items to find what he needed.

He already found a book that he skimmed through which mentioned Frank Whittock and his time as Master Assassin but none of which included anecdotes on his personal affairs. But he still set them aside in case she would like to look at them. The texts only included his business, quotes and formal letters but that still wasn't what he was looking for.

A year ago, when his twin sister was still in London, she found a small chest in a Westminster home she invaded. It had a curly cursive font with inscribed 'Whittock' on it, obviously belonging to the former Master Assassin who was missing and thought to be dead. Evie brought it home to open it but it was impossible, neither twin was able to pick the tiny and complicated lock.

He suggested to break open the chest but Evie rejected the idea, saying it was 'disrespectful and crude'. If Jacob cared more about it, he would've broken it by now but he actually…forgot about it. Now, he didn't even know where it was to give it to rightful owner who may be capable of opening.

"If I were Evie, where would I put a chest?" he hummed to himself as he opened a cabinet door and pulled things out, put things back, took the same things out again and put them back in.

Suddenly, underneath relics, he saw a gold emblem and he remembered it.

Jacob quickly took the chest out of the cabinet and dusted it off.

He didn't fully know how to explain this all to Elizabeth but knew the chest would help her believe him.

Jacob just hoped she finally had the key to open it in the morning.

/

Elizabeth woke up the next morning with a throbbing headache that she nearly ignored the fact she was sleeping on a bed. A fluffy, clean and comfortable bed in a red and purple luxurious room.

On a train. Jacob's train.

Why was she in his train?

She walked past the carriages and —

"Do you need something for your head, love?" Jacob purred while lazily sitting on a leather couch.

"Why am I here?"

He mused, "You don't remember anything?"

"I remember getting into an argument with these two large lads but everything after that is foggy."

"Well, for starters, you actually killed the large nosed lad and I had to drag you out the pub. It's best if you don't show your face around there for a bit."

She was unfazed by hearing she killed a man. After all, he was an arse.

"Then you took me here? Why?"

He matter-of-factly said, "It's not like I could've left you there."

"Thank you, I suppose."

"She knows how to say thanks?" Jacob teased.

She said, "Don't read too much into it and if that's it, I should be leaving then."

"Wait, last night, you told me a few things last night that we need to talk about."

She did what?

_How drunk was she?_

"You told me of your father's murder. Did you know nothing else of your father, Elizabeth?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Follow me; I have something to show you."

/

The rectangular chest was average sized and made of polished oak wood. The lining was gold and matched the name 'Whittock' inscribed underneath the silver Assassin symbol. Whittock and Assassin in one sentence were hard to believe but there it was, inscribed in gold. The lock was tiny and couldn't fit a normal key.

Jacob suddenly asked hopefully, "Do you have the key?"

"I don't think so," she grimaced as she touched the closed chest and began to turn it around. It was oddly heavy. What was in it? Elizabeth began to slightly shake the chest only to hear metals clinking against each other inside. There  _had_  to be a dagger inside but how would she open it?

"It's impossible to pick?" she asked.

Jacob nodded and said, "We've had no whist but perhaps you should give it a gander."

Elizabeth began to pick the lock with the nearby tool but after many tries, the lock wouldn't click. "You're right, it won't work."

"What if the lock's broken?" he suggested, "Another option is to break it open as well."

She shrugged while shifting the chest, "That would work…" Did she just see something? It looked quite familiar. "Wait, I think I see something," she pondered while turning the chest upside down and analyzed the hidden golden emblem underneath.

It was the same emblem on her locket.

Immediately snatching it off her own neck, she compared the two items. Jacob noticed the similarity and mused, "Oi, that's the —"

"— same emblem," the two sung together.

"My father gave this to me some time ago and told me to never lose it. I always thought it was some silly family heirloom but I get it now. It's the key to the chest."

"How? That thing isn't remotely shaped like a key —" he cut off and returned Elizabeth's widespread grin. "Unless it's inside. Well, what are we waiting for? Let's break the pretty damn locket."

She didn't need to be told twice.

A second later, Elizabeth placed the locket she dearly took care on the table. She clenched her fist and without another thought, she smashed the locket. The broken pieces scattered all over the table but what remained intact was a miniature golden key.

"A damn key in a locket," Jacob exclaimed, "That's absolutely genius!"

 _A bloody was in my locket after all these years and I hadn't the foggiest. My father was an Assassin_ —  _no a_ Master Assassin  _after all these years and I hadn't the foggiest. What else did Papa keep from me?_

Elizabeth opened the lid and was first faced with a beautiful dagger with Latin wording. She would examine it after, she simply needed something  _else_. She placed the dagger aside for Jacob to play around with. Her eyes focused on the navy fabric with tendrils of silver and violet. It wasn't until she took it out of the chest; she realized it was an outfit and saw the blades, hidden ones in the sleeves.

"That was your father's Master Assassin outfit," Jacob informed, "Would you look at that, it still got the hidden blades." His fingers lingered over one sleeve and suddenly, a sharp blade was quickly pushed up. He chuckled, "They still work too! That's bloody brill."

She had no words as she tossed the outfit beside herself and stared at the white envelope with the red stamp. No doubt from her father.

"Is there anything else?" he asked and she picked up the flat paper and held it between her fingers.

Elizabeth said, "A letter from my father."

"Don't hesitate, read it."

She ripped open the letter and began to read;

_Dear children,_

_I desire to say this shortly and simply._

_I was an Assassin most of my life but became the Master Assassin of the London Brotherhood in 1850._

_I was_ _**not** _ _conned out of my business._

_I was betrayed by my apprentice, friend and partner._

_Timothy Forge, a secret Templar out to destroy me and the brotherhood._

_I am not advising you drop your life to become an Assassin and follow in my footsteps or find Timothy._

_That is the_ _**last** _ _thing I desire which is why I kept this from you all this time._

_I never meant for this secret to be kept from you however it was crucial for your safety to keep this **knowledge**  from you._

_I am not quite certain which one of you two will read this first but alive or dead, wherever and whenever, I'll always love you._

_Forever,_

_Papa_

Elizabeth couldn't believe it.

He kept this major secret from her all these years.

He  _lied_  to her all these years.

And he had the nerve to write a letter explaining it instead of bottling up and telling his children like a real man.

Yet the letter was short.

And she had more questions than ever but luckily one was answered.

She knew Papa's killer.

Elizabeth took the letter and dagger in her hands and rushed out of the carriage. As she approached the Assassination wall, she looked at Forge's picture and beside it, she harshly pinned the letter to the wall with the dagger.

"You and me; we're after the same man," she hissed to Jacob.

"I suppose we are," he said, while reading the letter.

"We can help each other."

"Why, yes, Elizabeth, I  _will_  help you."

She muttered, "Then it's done. We'll get Forge together."

He joked, "Let's get a drink to celebrate the formation of this  _ever so beautiful partnership_."

She didn't know if this partnership was going to beautiful.

But Jacob was a tool to be used, if made correctly.


	8. An Invitation

 

* * *

**PART TWO**

_Thorn in the Flesh_

* * *

**8: An Invitation**

_Six months later…_

Fall was cold but winter was freezing.

The months flew by upon their eyes. Half the year passed before they knew it. Time was speeding like never before.

And plenty happened to the lives of the Whittock siblings during this time.

Oliver, the youngest of the Whittocks, continued to help Clara and her band of orphans – they quickly became his second family. As Clara O'Dea's personal spy, he became talented in the art of stealth. He masterfully eavesdropped onto conversations he  _really_ shouldn't and he learned his size was actually beneficial to escape sticky situations. It was dangerous but he loved the thrill - Oliver finally his talent and wished to pursue it.

As the temperature dropped, Will found love with the woman of his dreams. He was the happiest man in all of London because of one woman. Mary Turner and William Whittock were in love, there was no doubt about it. Anyone could see it; it was in their touches, in their eyes. Will loved Mary for her realism and Mary loved Will for his idealism. They seemed to be a perfect match and destined together for eternity. Yet it seemed the universe had a sense of humour because it wasn't just fate that brought them together.

Last but not least, Elizabeth Whittock may have horrible drinking habits and anger issues that definitely need to be sorted out but she is nothing if without  _purpose_. With the help of her partner, Master Assassin and closest friend, Jacob Frye, Elizabeth's quest to kill the Grand Master of Templars – and the murderer of her father – was coming closer to a finish. Elizabeth waited long enough. The time to strike was near. Elizabeth wanted vengeance and she wouldn't stop until she received it.

The odds seemed to finally be turning in favour for the Whittocks but they were unaware London had terrible things in store for them this time of year.

Because it was about time all the Whittock siblings learned liars were  _bad_  but secrets were  _deadly_.

/

Elizabeth took one last swing of her whiskey before she tossed it aside.

She paced the room but kept her eyes glued on the board, trying her best to brainstorm. The alcohol made it easier to focus on the murder board – as she liked to believe.

_Focus, focus,_ she thought,  _everything's nearly in place. There's only a piece of the puzzle left – an irregular shaped piece I had no idea where the hell to place._ But she reminded herself,  _it can still be done._

The murder board was difficult to follow – a mess of newspaper scraps, pages of ancient books and stolen letters. Connecting the bits of information together was hard enough– which became an even worse task when everything was scattered and misplaced. In all honesty, she blamed  _Jacob the Slob_  for the terrible organization. The whole goddamn cart was filled with random stuff that was useless. For example, there was a book about gardening and a broken guitar with only two strings –

"Focus, Elizabeth!" she loudly whispered to herself before narrowing her eyes at the web.

In the centre of the board was a picture of Timothy Forge, the recently crowned Grand Master of the Templar Order. The web had other names that were affiliated to Forge – mainly his advisors, allies and employees. Many of the faces were crossed out in red ink since they were already  _taken care of_.

Only one man remained before Forge would finally be in reach.

The man was Forge's loyal second-in-command, Till. He was on the older-side from the pictures, with graying hair and bold wrinkles. But the old man was also rumoured the strongest Templar in London. He knew his way around pistols, skilled in hand-to-hand and handled a sword like an ancient knight.

She didn't have rarely to no knowledge on Till. Under his name was only a rumour he went to a brothel frequently but it was rarely a lead to follow up on. She had no idea what to do with that small piece of information.

Of course, Till was not sparse of the public eye but Elizabeth wasn't daft, she knew fighting this man was close to impossible. Even for Jacob – despite his childish protests.

That was the problem, Till's days in battle paid off and made him into a super soldier.

But Till was still only human – with enough wits, Elizabeth could beat him. She needed to come up with a plan – a good one that wouldn't end up with her head through a sword.

"Elizabeth!"

"Hello, Jacob," she said to him as he entered the cart. He had a rather…dishevelled look about him. She asked with concern, "Is everything fine?"

He asked, "Have you read this letter?" He swayed an opened letter in her face.

Elizabeth shook her head. "Why would I open it? It was sent to  _you_ ," she raised her brow, "Why? What's the big deal about it?"

"The  _big_ deal about it, Elizabeth , is that it was sent from the one and only Timothy Forge himself."

She deadpanned. "What?" Scrunching her nose in confusion, she asked, "Why would he send you a letter? What does it say?"

Jacob handed her the letter. "See for yourself."

Elizabeth read the letter in less than a minute and became dumbfounded at what it said. It was already hard enough to believe Forge sent a letter to Jacob after he and Elizabeth had been killing off all his men. It was even harder to believe Forge invited the Assassin for  _tea._

"… _for tea time in the afternoon this upcoming Saturday…it would be an upmost pleasure to have you…"_  Elizabeth read in disbelief. "What the hell is this?"

Jacob simply stated, "An invitation."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and said, "I  _know_ that," she muttered, "But why?"

"Perhaps he wishes to discuss dolls and tea?"

"Jacob, be serious," She resisted the urge to roll he eyes once more and scanned over the letter, "He said 'it was time the Master Assassin and Grand Master finally met'. What's he trying to get at?"

He responded, "It seems he wants to  _negotiate_."

Elizabeth realized something.

"Y-you're not even thinking about going?" she asked, shocked, "Are you?"

He slowly started, "I've been thinking about it and –"

"You can't possibly go. It's a trap!" She looked at him like he was the stupid – which he very much was. How did he not see Forge was simply luring naïve Jacob into his nest to feed on him? "Must I remind you, Forge is a  _Templar_?" She silently added,  _and the man who murdered my father._

"You really believe a man,  _any man_ , wishes to negotiate with someone who has been  _slaughtering_ his allies? If you go to his estate, I promise you will not return. He  _will_  be waiting with his men…and I can't afford to lose you."

Jacob began to chuckle.

_What the fu-_

Elizabeth fumed, "What is wrong with you? This isn't a joke!"

"It's nothing," he said with a smirk creeping onto his face.

"It's obvious it's  _something_."

He bashfully said, "It's déjà vu! You're being just like Evie."

She was only even more confused. "What does your sister have to do with this?"

Jacob sighed and explained, "A little over a year ago, a dangerous man – a man who  _shouldn't_  have been friendly, invited me to dinner. I remember Evie was trying her best to convince me not to go and was panicking. Kind of like you."

"At least one Frye is smart," Elizabeth added.

"And everything with Roth turned out fine … well, until he went crazy and invited me to the theatre and it caught on fire so I had to – Anyways! I knew the reason my sister worried was because she cares about me and so do you – "

"Wait a minute– "

Jacob swung his over her narrow shoulder and put his chin on her head. Elizabeth had the urge to push at him but she didn't. Instead, she felt a blush creep onto her cheeks as she tilted her head away so Jacob couldn't see.

He said, "Don't worry, dear Elizabeth, I got this in control. I'll go to his estate, drink his expensive tea and negotiate. And if shit doesn't go as planned, I'll just leave. I'm an Assassin after all, can't be too hard."

She said in disbelief while parting from Jacob, "You're going to negotiate with a Templar?"

He exclaimed, "Trick the trickster! I'll beat him to the betrayal. I'll stab him in the back when he least expects it."

"I fear you're taking this too lightly."

His squeezed her shoulder and Elizabeth relaxed in his grip. He said, "Once again, I promise everything will be fine,"

"Can you blame me for worrying? It's a terrible idea."

Jacob smiled. "Terrible idea.  _Great opportunity_. Hear me out," he continued, "I know the invitation is dangerous but I can't  _not_  go."

"Throw your pride aside," she tensely said, "this is more than 'I won't back out of a fight'. Jacob, I understand your plan. It's not exactly foolish, but it is  _dangerous._ It may cost you your life." She looked at Jacob and sighed, "But it seems I can't stop you. You're a stubborn man, Jacob."

He genuine smiled at her. "I know," he looked off, "but for the tea party to go as planned, I  _do_  need your help with one thing."

"Which is?"

"In case things go south, I can't have Till at the estate. I can fight him, though, you know I can. But it may be a tad difficult with other Templars running amuck." He rubbed the back of his neck. "You, uh, you can keep him busy during that time, can't you?"

She raised her brow. "You want me to distract Till?"

"Yes, and distract does not mean  _kill_. So in the meantime, please, please do not kill Till before, during or after Saturday. That'll be a quite awkward conversation I have with Forge at tea."

" _Distract Till but not kill him_? How the bloody hell am I supposed to do that?"

"Well, I'm sure whatever you do will be fine." He said with a smile. But the smile was weak and he sounded very unsure of his own voice. Elizabeth took a deep breath. As Jacob sensed her stress, he said, "You have a full week to Saturday to come up with a plan so…good luck but I have no doubt you'll be able to do it." After realizing he didn't help Elizabeth at all, he asked sheepishly, "Have I ever told you're one of the smartest people I've met?"

"No, I don't believe you have," she answered while crossing her arms.

"Know you know! Anyways, I have business to attend to. I need to con this businessman out of information now. I would ask you to join me but I'll leave you to…think of a plan. Goodbye, love, and remember I owe you!"

_Con a business man of information?_

_Talk for money?_

_Wait._

"If you owe me, then pay up," Elizabeth called to him before he could leave. "Leave me some cash on the desk. I think I have an idea worth trying."

/

Later on that night, Elizabeth visited Sanctuary with money in her hand and a plan in her head.

"Welcome, Miss, what can I do for you tonight?" The mistress in purple robes politely asked Elizabeth as she approached the front desk. Her eyes scanned Elizabeth's kukri, pistol and dark outfit. Elizabeth could tell she was curious as to why a young girl like herself was armed and in a brothel. It was obvious she wasn't applying for a job.

She admitted, "I want an hour with one of your girls."

The lady raised her eyebrows and said, "We don't have many…of your  _type_  come 'round here often. I'm not sure if any girls available tonight are willing to agree but I shall ask for you," she closed the heavy book in front of her, "Stay and wait here and I'll be back right away."

Elizabeth watched as she left sight and viewed if anyone else was watching her. Everyone was busy and didn't pay attention to her as she turned the book over, opened it and scanned through the list of appointments and clients.

_Where are you, Till?_

She mindlessly muttered, "Sebastian Clarke…Henry Flubb…John Williams…" She looked to the next page and spotted the name she was looking for. "Nicholas Till."

He was booked every single week for the past five months and for future appointments too. The day of the week varied but he chose the same whore every time,  _White Doe_. Likely his personal favourite. That whore would be a help to Elizabeth. She needed to talk to  _her_.

As the lady descended the stairs, Elizabeth shut the book and placed it in the right position before casually leaning against the counter and waiting for the news.

She could only hope the White Doe was open-minded…

"You're just in luck, dear!" she exclaimed with a bright, crooked tooth smile. "We have a few girls available for the hour!"

Elizabeth immediately asked, "Is the White Doe available?"

The lady gave her a curious look to silently ask 'how do you who she is?' Elizabeth explained, "I've heard good reviews."

"Luckily, she is available but I must warn you, she is rather expensive, being one of the best in London."

Elizabeth smirked. "That's no problem, I'll be able to cover it." She could only thank Jacob for loaning her some –  _too much_  money. But after all, he owed her.

"Perfect, then! She's already waiting in your room," The lady handed her the silver key with a forced smile. "Upstairs, room 20 as usual. Enjoy the night, sweetheart."

"I will very much so, thank you," Elizabeth said then climbed the stairs of the brothel.

She entered the room and saw the whore applying powder to her face in the vanity mirror. Her eyes met Elizabeth's in the mirror and her thin lips curled into a seductive smile.

The White Doe wore a white lace corset detailed with tiny purple gems. Her face was covered with a golden mask and her blonde hair had flowers embedded within and rested at her wide waist. She had a plump, curvy body that no man could resist.

Elizabeth locked the door behind her and shoved the key in her pocket and waited in the centre of the room. The whore glided towards her and said in a raspy voice, "I rarely get a woman client," She licked her lips and bit her tongue. "This should be fun."

This too could be enjoyable for Elizabeth.

Elizabeth could walk out of the brothel with information that would help forge a plan for Saturday. She needed all she could get.

Now it was time the whore spilled her guts out.


	9. Explosive

**9: Explosive**

The White Doe seductively smiled and placed her dainty with hand on Elizabeth's shoulder, right above her breast. Elizabeth was ready to push her off but remembered where she was.

At a  _brothel_. In a  _room_  at a  _brothel_. With a  _whore_  in a  _room_  at the  _brothel_.

Bloody hell.

The whore purred, "Don't worry your pretty little head, dear. Even if this isn't your first time with a woman, I'll guide you through everything. I'll even make it feel like your first time."

Elizabeth gulped a knot down her throat as she stared at White Doe. She was locked into place - a statue that couldn't move. Elizabeth blushed roses as the White Doe licked her lips and swayed her hips while closing the gap between them.

This had to be most embarrassed and uncomfortable Elizabeth was in her entire life.

What had she gotten herself into? All she wanted to do was to interrogate the whore, not be seduced by her.

Elizabeth refrained from stumbling backwards and stood like stone. The White Doe scanned her body from head to toe, lingering on Elizabeth's belt where her weapons were hanging.

"You certainly are heavily armed for a woman. Miss, what do you do?"

She said, "A little of this, a little of that."

The whore laughed, "A  _secretive_ , armed woman. Dressed almost like an  _Assassin_. Interesting…"

The White Doe then attempted to undress Elizabeth of her cloak but this time, Elizabeth's instincts took over and swatted the whore's hand away. She looked shocked and raised her thin brows.

Elizabeth wasn't here to lose her virginity with a woman. She wasn't even  _gay_. Not that even mattered, she wouldn't let alone even consider sleeping with a male prostitute either. She always found the occupation dirty and the customers even more so.

This entire situation felt so awkward and weird, Elizabeth was tempted to run out that door right at any moment.

The whore looked surprised as Elizabeth stepped away. "Is something the matter?"

"You are a beautiful woman…but I'm not here to fuck you."

Her eyebrows rose even higher. "Then why are you here?" She smirked and her eyes locked onto Elizabeth's. "Do you have something  _else_ in mind?"

"I quite do, but it's probably not what  _you_  had in mind," Elizabeth addressed. "I actually don't want to touch you at all."

The White Doe's snorted. "What the bloody hell is wrong with you? Either have sex with me or get out." She rolled her eyes and flipped her hair over her shoulder. "Haven't you every heard time is money? Because you're wasting it."

_Excuse me_?

Elizabeth was taken aback as the whore's seduction and innocence slipped away and came the Bitch of the Brothel. She realized the saying a 'prostitute has two different faces' was correct – one face to clients and the other to non-clients.

But the whore's sudden change of attitude wouldn't stop Elizabeth. The White Doe wanted money…so Elizabeth would talk money.

Taking the heavy coin pouch out of her pocket, Elizabeth tossed it to the White Doe. She said, "There's about three hours' worth your time in here but I'm only asking for one. It can all be yours in 60 minutes if you agree to help me."

While picking the pouch off the ground, she asked, "What do you even wish from me?" The whore opened the drawstring and looked inside. Her face changed in a matter of seconds when she realized Elizabeth wasn't lying.

Her eyes brightened and she waited for Elizabeth to answer her question.

"I just want to ask you a few questions, that's all."

The whore haughtily glanced at Elizabeth but her hand still tightly grasped the coin pouch, "Why should I help you? Who the hell are you anyways?"

"I can be your best friend or your worst enemy which all depends on, uh,  _you._ "

The whore quietly laughed. "You think you're tough. I don't blame you, you're young. But remember you're a woman in a man's world. You're 'look at me, I'm badass' persona won't last you very long, dear."

What?

Elizabeth couldn't really give a rats ass what she was even rambling about.

Sighing and rubbing her temple, Elizabeth huffed, "I'm already having a rubbish day so don't put me in a worse mood. For the interview, I'll ask you a question and you give me the answer to it. I don't care of what else you have to say, just give me the answer to what I asked – nothing else."

Elizabeth finished as the whore looked bored, "It can go two ways – either good or bad. But you  _will_  talk whether you like it or not."

A flicker of fear flashed beneath her eyes before her over-confidence reappeared. "Are you threatening me in my own workplace? Are you going to kill me, bitch? You won't even get two steps out of the brothel without someone noticing the blood on your hands."

"Don't go twisting my words now," Elizabeth huffed, "I even  _pay_ you for your time."

She stated, "Have you ever heard of client confidentiality? What happens in Sanctuary, stays in Sanctuary."

Elizabeth said, "Same for goes for this room," unsheathing her kukri, she pointed the weapon and slowly walked towards White Doe.

She was backed into the corner as she gasped. "I thought Assassins weren't supposed to harm the innocent!"

"It's a good thing I'm not an Assassin then." The kukri contacted the nape of her neck. Elizabeth hissed, " _Talk_."

/

"Evening, Oliver!" Will brightly said as he arrived home. "How was your day? Hopefully you didn't get into too much trouble."

Oliver countered, "Trouble finds me, not the other way around." He smiled brightly. "Today was quite calm actually, after school, I visited Clara and we ate a delicious dinner with the orphans," He looked at Will. "How about you?"

Will sighed, "Just typical Rook duty. Walking around London, keeping the streets safe, fighting thugs. The usual."

His little brother seemed to notice the waver in his voice. "You don't sound too enthusiastic about it. Every time I ask you about the Rooks, your mood changes. You don't like it anymore?"

That was hard for Will.

He liked the values of the Rooks and believed they helped everyone. He knew they made London a better city by taking it away from the hands of a Templar-affiliated gang.

But Will also found out that the life of a gang member wasn't for him. He enjoyed it at first, it gave him a cause to follow but now, it was the same damn thing every single day. Will realized he didn't like punching a man until he was unconscious or chasing Blighters on horse carriages all over the city.

It was a rush and pumped blood through his veins but he didn't want a life of constant thrill. He wanted to a normal, healthy and happy life while growing old a woman he loved. It sounded boring but it was the life Mama would be proud Will lived.

"I'm not sure, Oliver. What am I without the Rooks? If it weren't for them, I wouldn't be able to feed you, Mary or even myself," Will looked around the house. "Speaking of Mary, do you know where she is?"

"She left with you but hasn't come back since," Oliver dismissively said, "But I have another question, though, if you don't want to be part of the Rooks, what would wish to do instead?"

Will wanted to ask Oliver more about Mary's absence – she should've been home before him but he went on to answer his little brother's question.

"If I had the money, I'd like to open a tavern in the City of London. It would be small but enough to fit 30, it would have candles and old paintings on the wall and, oh! I'd love to have an authentic barrel of ale. It would be cozy place. Everyone who came to the bar would be regulars and be familiar with the staff and other customers. Of course, there would be bar fights every so often…it just wouldn't be a bar without them!"

Oliver questioned with intrigue on his face, "Why don't you open it then? It seems like a rather good idea!"

Will sadly smiled. "I told you, I don't have the money for it. The bar would cost more than I make in a decade." Will never even thought about making his dream into a reality – it was impossible.

"Can't you take a loan?" Oliver was too young to understand the men at the bank would never loan Will – a poor Whitechapel man – a loan of 5000 pounds.

He shook his head. "The bank would never give someone like me a loan of that money. They only give people from the Strand or Westminster that big of a loan."

Oliver nodded his head, looking disappointed but his eyes widened. He says, getting an idea, "What about a loan from Lizzy? I believe she has more money than all of us right now."

It was true, Elizabeth was considered the richest among the siblings now. Ever since she befriended Jacob Frye, Elizabeth was no longer the poor Whitechapel girl who worked her ass off at the local factory. She changed. Of course, Elizabeth was never innocent – she knew, saw and did things no girl her age should even  _think_ of but she became worse.

All the murders happening to Templars – no doubt by Elizabeth and Jacob.

It was hard for Will's head to wrap around the idea. He knew all Elizabeth really cared about was killing Forge – the man she believed killed Papa. Her desire to avenge their father turned into an obsession. He knew it wasn't healthy.

Will only said to Oliver, "Lizzy and I aren't on speaking terms anymore."

/

_Flashback – 5 Months Ago_

Will barely recognised his sister when he saw her. It was like looking at a completely different person.

Elizabeth's long tangled hair was replaced with smooth and short shoulder-length hair, tied behind her neck with a black ribbon. Her face was soot-free, allowing her fair skin and freckles to finally show.

Will never realized how pretty his younger sister actually was until now.

Her change of clothes was also very noticeable. Every piece of garment was new and looked expensive. She wore navy corduroy trousers paired with dark brown leather boots. Elizabeth still sported a black cloak but a newer, velvet one that reached her knees.

He couldn't believe Elizabeth went from rags to riches in the course of a month.

Just by befriending the Master Assassin and the leader of the Rooks, Jacob Frye.

"Hello, Elizabeth," Will said with a smile, "everything all right?"

She said, "Yes, I'm doing well. I hope you don't mind I came here so abruptly. I would have told you but I was pressed on time."

"It's quite fine, you can visit anytime you please," he gestured to the parlour, "come, let's sit. I'll make some tea."

He wanted to make Elizabeth feel like this was her home as well. She didn't need to live on a train with Jacob. Will didn't  _dislike_  Jacob but he hated his younger sister – who wasn't yet 20 years of age – spent so much time with a man like that. He was more trouble than he was worth – Will didn't want to see Elizabeth in danger.

"Thank you for the offer, brother, but I can only stay here for a short time. I'm actually only here to pick something up."

Will asked, "To pick up something? What is it?"

"I need the pocket watch found on Papa's dead body. I gave it to you the day of, do you remember? I was hoping if I could I see it."

Will nodded his head and beckoned her to his bedroom. Why did Elizabeth need the pocket watch? He guessed it was to research it but he already poured over several Templar books to find other meanings to the symbol on the pocket watch and found nothing else.

"It should be in here," Will said as he rolled open the drawer of his nightstand.

It wasn't there.

_It should be here, I put it here_ , he thoroughly remembered placing it there two weeks ago.

Will began to rummage through the drawer, pushing everything away, hoping to see a small metal watch.

"It's not in there?" Elizabeth asked with a hint of frustration while looking over his shoulder.

Will continued to look through the drawers, closet and under the cabinet. While searching, he replied, "I probably just misplaced it."

Elizabeth crossed her arms. "Sounds like you lost it to me."

"I didn't lose it. I never took it out of the flat; it has to be here – somewhere," he sighed, moving his hair out his face while looking under the bed.

While Will's head was still under the bed, Elizabeth stated, "Don't you live with that girl? Mary Turner? Perhaps she took it."

"Shit!" Will cursed after he accidently bumped his head under the bed. Elizabeth started to chuckle, trying to conceal her laughter but failed. Will would have started to laugh too if it weren't for what Elizabeth said.

He asked incredulously, "You think Mary stole the pocket watch?" Elizabeth realized he was no longer friendly; she stopped laughing and furrowed her brow.

"It only makes sense she took it. I know Oliver wouldn't have taken it, he has no use for it. And if you didn't lose it like you said, it only makes sense that girl took it."

"That  _girl_  is Mary and she is my  _girlfriend_  and she didn't steal the pocket watch."

"Steal, took, borrowed without asking – whatever way you like to say it. I don't care who took it, I just need it."

Will exclaimed, "I-I don't know where it is! But… I still can't believe you think Mary took it. What would she even do with the damn thing?"

Elizabeth's face changed and she tried to diffuse the situation, "Will, I'm not accusing her. I'm just saying it's possible she took it by accident."

"This is just like you, Elizabeth. To say something shitty and try to take it back," he asked with a glare, "What do you even need it for?"

Elizabeth was starting to get angry too.

"Now that's hardly your business," She defended. "Stop being a prick. What's your problem anyways? Is it that girl? Let's be honest, Will, despite the fact Mary perhaps, perhaps not took it, how well do you even know her? You've been dating for what, a month? You're so foolish, brother."

His jaw dropped. "You're going to bring that up to me?  _To me?_  What about Jacob, the man you're living with? Do you fuck him for a home or something, Elizabeth?"

Her face dropped. "How dare you!" She was fuming. She pointed her finger at him and hissed, "You-you-you- ugh!"

Finding no words, she began to stomp out of the bedroom and Will followed her, right on her tail.

He said, "He's using you, Elizabeth! You're too blind to see! You're using him for money and he's using you for sex!

"I never slept with him!" she spat. "I haven't done  _anything_  with him."

What? Will hadn't known –

Elizabeth continued, "You know what, Will, I've never commented about the way you live your life. And Jacob is the only person I remotely trust right now. He's shown more care and empathy in a span of two months than you've ever been to me my entire life. My own  _brother._ "

Will started, "I  _care_  –"

"No!" she fumed. "Don't even finish that sentence." She sighed and Will found no more words. "Keep Oliver safe and take care of him. Call him your brother. But don't,  _don't_ , call me  _your_  family, your sister, hell, don't even call me your bloody friend. Because you and me – we're done."

And with that, Elizabeth stormed out of Will's house.


	10. London Partners

**10: London Partners**

_Start of Flashback – Continuity of Previous Chapter_

Noises suddenly erupted throughout the train. Jacob heard a loud thud, a shuffle of feet and a slammed door. It was odd considering no Rooks were on board and the train wasn't even stopped at a station. He supposed somebody jumped on board while it was moving. Only one person he knew was that agile.

It appeared Elizabeth was back…and not in a very happy mood.

"Hmm," he hummed to himself while he curiously looked at the closed door.

Jacob stopped sharpening his hidden blades and placed them back into his gauntlet before he exited the carriage. It was obvious she wasn't happy. Elizabeth only told Jacob she was going to Whitechapel and that she would be back in an hour. Jacob didn't ask questions because Elizabeth didn't like to give answers. Jacob left her leave but now he wondered what in the world happened to her in that time.

He approached Evie's old carriage where Elizabeth shut herself in. The door was lockless and he could waltz right in if he wanted to but knew she wouldn't appreciate that very much. He could already hear her telling him 'who said you could come in?' or 'ever heard to knock'?

So Jacob did the only thing he could – he knocked twice on the curtained glass door.

"Elizabeth," he sung while pressing his ear to door, "mind if I come in? I think I may have forgotten my top hat in your carriage."

Crash!

She shouted from the other carriage, "Try looking on top of your head!" Jacob consciously touched his head and his top hat was nicely perched atop. Why did he even check his head? It wasn't as if he was actually looking for it…

"I'm looking for my expensive one – it's purplish with gold detailing, you know it." he lied. Would she ever let him in?

Bang!

"It's not in here!" she yelled as Jacob heard another thud. What was she doing in there?

He said exhausted, "Well, I'm coming in to look for it anyways."

Jacob entered Elizabeth's carriage and his jaw dropped. She was a neat person who liked to keep things tidy so seeing her room in the chaos it was in now shocked him. Her single bed looked like a dozen people slept in it, the furniture in her room was all flipped upside down and Jacob had to watch his step because there was broken glass  _everywhere_. Empty bottles of alcohol.

The crashing made sense now – she was searching for alcohol.

Elizabeth still hadn't looked at Jacob since he entered her room. She knew he was present but decided to continue her one-woman search party. Her face was stuffed inside a drawer, searching for anything that had a high alcohol percentage. But she found empty bottle after empty bottle.

She had a flushed look on her face with furrowed eyebrows. This look wasn't really  _new_ for Elizabeth. She never had an approachable face but even then, her actions now were entirely out of this world. It wasn't even human – she was scrounging for alcohol like a predator to prey. Though Jacob thought it was sort of funny, he also thought she was going a little bizarre.

"We're out of alcohol," she said with frustration while dropping another bottle on the floor. It broke and the pieces reached the tip of Jacob's foot.

Jacob noted with a shrug, "That's because you drank it all." Elizabeth glared at him and cursed at him before busying herself again.

Elizabeth seriously had a heart of liquor. It was impressive at first to see her consume so much alcohol for such a young girl but now it became a little worrying. Drinking for her wasn't a 'sometimes' thing, it was a bloody hobby. She was going to die from alcohol poisoning sooner or later if she didn't stop.

"Elizabeth," Jacob said sweetly with a stretched smile on his face. He talked to her like a ticking time bomb. "Could you stop searching for a second and perhaps talk to me?"

She scoffed, "Talk to you about what? Nothings the matter."  _Obviously so_.

Jacob slowly neared her and warily put a hand on her shoulder. She looked at his hand and stopped searching.

He sarcastically replied, "Yes, because when a person gets crazy eyes and begins to break empty bottles it means nothing is wrong." This time he received an eye roll. "Did something happen in Whitechapel today?"

She snorted and shifted her eyes from Jacobs. "Just got in a little argument, that's all."

"I doubt you are so worked about a little argument," he asked urgently, "What happened in Whitechapel?"

She hissed between her teeth, " _An argument_ , I told you. It's wasn't important. It's already out of my head. And if you don't mind me, Jacob, I'm leaving to find a bar. I need a drink – and  _not because I got in a bloody argument_."

Elizabeth tried to walk past Jacob but he caught her arm in time. She tried to wrench it away but Jacob's grip was too tight. Something about letting her leave like didn't feel right to him. He had a bad feeling about her drinking tonight – almost like he would find her in the morning, beside a trashcan with a black eye and a throbbing hangover.

If it really was an argument she had, it must've been with someone she cared about to make her this angry. There were only two special people in Whitechapel. Her brothers.

She frowned. "Let go of me, Jacob, you can't stop me from leaving."

He said with a smirk, "I can try."

She quickly replied, "You're a stubborn bastard, you know that?" Jacob could tell something was wrong. Elizabeth always had fight in her but she was already giving up.

"Cut me some slack, I'm only trying to help you. Drinking your sorrows won't help you forget about them. I've tried it and hate to tell you, love, but it doesn't work."

Jacob could tell Elizabeth was contemplating whether to tell him she didn't need his help but instead she remained silent. Suddenly, her face changed from anger to exhaustion.

She said softly, "I'm not good at talking about my problems. That's why I like to drink so much, it makes my head foggy. I know it's not good, Jacob, I know that but I can't stop. I like that feeling." She sighed, "I feel stupid just talking about it."

"I'm here and I'm listening."

Elizabeth looked at him with curious eyes and only said, almost surprised, "You are."

"Tell me more, Elizabeth."

She slowly nodded her head. "It was Will…"

_End of Flashback_

/

At the brothel, Elizabeth finally concluded her questioning of the White Doe – Till's favourite whore. By the end, she told Elizabeth the knowledge she knew of him without any harm being given to her. Elizabeth didn't even need to use her kukri. The whore was rather helpful by the end actually.

But there was also the chance she fed Elizabeth lies and she ate it up.

"This information better not be false," Elizabeth warned the White Doe while standing up.

She stopped counting the pounds in the coin pouch and defended, "It's all true. I swear it on my life, Miss."

"We shall see about that," she drawled and checked her watch. The hour was over. "It seems our time together is finished."

Elizabeth started towards the door but before she opened it, she looked at the whore who was sitting on the bed. Elizabeth said, "Remember this little talk we had stays between us. If anyone were to find out, it'd truly be a shame for you." One last threat couldn't hurt. Plus, it was all Elizabeth could offer. She couldn't offer her any more money to keep her mouth  _shut._ She just hoped coming to her wasn't a mistake she would soon regret.

Yet perhaps it would be worth it. The information she received tonight was more than she ever imagined to gather on Till.

The whore nodded her head in agreement and said, "Farewell."

Elizabeth exited the room without another word. The lady at the desk said goodnight to Elizabeth as she left Sanctuary at half past midnight. Elizabeth was in such a happy mood, she said it back. It really was a  _good night_.

She walked home with a little skip to her step.

/

Jacob's eyes began to involuntarily close by themselves from his exhaustion. He was tired and wanted nothing more but to take his gear off, jump onto his bed and fall asleep like an infant. But he couldn't do that until Elizabeth came back. Jacob knew Elizabeth could take care of herself but he wanted to talk to her and ask her what her 'plan' was.

Ten minutes later, Elizabeth entered the train. She tiptoed around careful to be quiet if he were asleep. She stopped until she saw him sitting at the booth and gave him a confused look. "What are you doing still up, Jacob? Go to bed."

"I was waiting for you to get back," he added while yawning.

She sincerely said, "I'm fine. There was no need for that. Or perhaps you just missed me that much?" She teased with a toothy smile. Whenever she smiled, it was hard for Jacob to look away – perhaps it was because she did it rarely or perhaps he just really  _liked_  her smile.

Jacob joked, "I couldn't fall asleep without a goodnight kiss."

"That so?" Elizabeth said distractedly and opened the alcohol cabinet. She asked him, "Whiskey or ale? Never mind, I already know. Always been ale. How long have you been an ale man?"

"Ever since I was thirteen. How can you not like that fruity, sweet taste?"

Elizabeth scrunched her nose and she poured him a glass of ale and herself a glass of whiskey. "I  _hate_  it."

He rolled his eyes. "Because you are Miss 'Whiskey for Prime Minister."

"Damn right," she noted and set the two glasses on the table and took a sit across Jacob on the booth. "How was your day?"

"Same ole, same ole. The man I tried to con didn't talk much so it ended being a waste of my time. But I'm more interested where you were. Following your clever 'plan'?"

She cockily took a sip of her glass. "You wouldn't believe what I've heard."

"Care to explain?" He was genuinely wondering where she was throughout the whole day.

"I went to a brothel in Whitechapel, Sanctuary-"

Jacob knew that name. He said, "That's where we met for a second time. I remember that day very vividly."

She nodded her head, "Yes, that brothel. Well, do you remember you told me to lookout for a horse carriage carrying Forge to the brothel? I really did check on my way home every night for Forge. I never lied to you when I said there was no Forge." She smirked, knowing something Jacob didn't. He really wanted to badly know what it was.

"Well?"

"The reason I never saw Forge was because the carriage wasn't carrying  _him._ It was carrying another Templar…Nicholas Till."

Jacob's eyebrows shot up. He exclaimed, "It was Till? How do you know you?"

"There's a paper under Till's name on the assassination wall. It was a rumour Till visited a lowly brothel. I never knew what do with that shoddy information before but I realized I was being such an idiot. I don't know how it never came to me before."

He asked urgently, "What came to you? What did you do?"

"It all came together when you pinned the task of distracting Till on me. So I went to Sanctuary and I asked for an urgent appointment with a whore. It was just my luck the whore I got was also Till's favourite. I simply bribed her with your money and she spilled her guts to me."

"Which was?" He was leaning on the corner of his seat. This could be it. This could be their step ahead of Till.

She said, "To sum it up; One, he has a foot fetish. Two, he lives on 34 Hillington. Three, his grandson is alive. Four, he is deaf."

Jacob only stared at her. How she found this much information about such a secretive man was outstanding. Almost unbelievable.

Elizabeth went on, "Of course, this information may not be true. She was rather a conniving woman but she seemed true, Jacob, I have a good feeling about this."

"We could do so much with this information." He thought about the many, many possibilities.

Elizabeth chuckled while she drained her whiskey. She questioned, "We? I thought this task was especially given to me. Weren't you too busy preparing for your little tea party with Forge?"

Jacob rubbed his neck and shifted his eyes. "I believe I was too rash. I shouldn't have just dumped that on you. You're not my assistant, Elizabeth," he looked at her with a smile, "Could you ever find it in your icy heart to forgive me?"

"Try again without the 'icy' part and perhaps."

He huffed, "Could you ever find it in your  _kind_ heart to forgive me?"

She put a finger to chin and laughed. "I guess so. You'll probably die of heartbreak if I don't." Jacob rolled his eyes but still laughed with her.

"But seriously, I got this, do not worry. I can finish this very well alone."

He said, "Oh, I know. You never cease to fail me but I think I should help you with this. Think about it, Elizabeth. Separate, we're good but together, we're great. Agree." He reached his hand over the table for Elizabeth to take.

She thought about it for a moment but eventually took his hand. "Well, it's not like you have anything else to do. And I suppose you're right, things we do finish together tend to be better."

"You're the brains, I'm the bronze."

She stubbornly questioned, "What if I want to be both?"

"Fine, then you're 50 percent brains and 50 percent bronze."

Elizabeth looked confused. "Shouldn't it be 25 percent each, that is, including you as well?"

"Shut up,  _partner_."

"Screw yourself,  _partner_."

Together with their hands intertwined, they brightly smiled at each other and enjoyed each other's company, talking about whatever came to mind until they fell asleep on the table.

/

Earlier that night, an older woman met with a younger girl in the dark alleys of London. The hour was late, the temperature freezing and the moon full. Many people were home asleep. The streets were empty and silent. A pin could have dropped but the two females could have likely heard it.

"You're going about everything wrong!" the older woman harshly whispered to the young girl. The young girl did nothing but cry in her hands. She was very upset but the older woman wouldn't comfort her. She would  _never_  comfort her and the young girl knew this – she didn't like the older woman very much.

The young girl cried, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please, it's a difficult task, you must believe me!"

"I know what the problem is. It's  _you._ You've become too comfortable. You foolish, foolish girl. I thought you were cut out for this but I suppose I was wrong."

She whimpered, "I know but I –"

"No 'but's! Never send a girl to do a woman's job." She asked her with wild eyes, "Tell me, do you ever want to go home?"

The girl didn't know the answer to this question so she said nothing. From this silence, the older woman slapped the young girls face with her backhand. It was definitely going to leave a mark. She didn't know how she was going to explain this to  _them_.

She said weakly, "Forgive me, I'll try do better."

"Not  _try_. You  _will_  do better. Promise me girl."

"I promise," she sobbed, "I promise I will kill Elizabeth Whittock…"


	11. Afternoon Tea

**11: Afternoon Tea**

Together, partners Jacob Frye and Elizabeth Whittock finally forged a plan to distract Till from Jacob's meeting with the Grand Master. It was a foolproof plan and fully thought out but there was one problem – they still didn't acquire the final piece of the plan. The White Doe. She was utterly important and if she agreed to assist, Jacob and Elizabeth would pull off the plan without a hitch.

They visited Sanctuary, in hopes to ask for her help. Luckily, she was merely finished from her last appointment. The White Doe was surprised Elizabeth returned but nevertheless, still agreed to see the two of them. A fear ran through her but Elizabeth confirmed she wasn't there to harm her but reward her once more. The White Doe was willing to listen as she already spent the money Elizabeth gave her for a gold mask with real ruby gems. It seemed she also wanted the ruby necklace that matched.

Yet when she found out Elizabeth and Jacob wanted her to leave the safety of the brothel, she wasn't too keen to participate anymore. After hours of bribing, begging and bargaining, the White Doe – or as clarified her real name,  _Vanessa_  agreed to help only if she was payed well. It was a steep price named but Elizabeth and Jacob agreed to pay it. They had but no other choice to.

An Assassin. A thief. A whore.

It was an unlikely trio but their odds together seemed good.

/

On the Saturday afternoon, Elizabeth, Jacob and Vanessa sat within a horse carriage riding to Westminster. Elizabeth sat beside Vanessa and Jacob was opposite of them. Tensions were high in the carriage but none of them would dare show it on his or her face. They each had too much pride to let each other know their true feelings. Though Jacob had a lazy grin on his face, his sweaty palms that constantly fidgeted told otherwise. Vanessa looked bored but it was hard to ignore her knitted brows as she looked out the window. Elizabeth appeared cool and collected yet couldn't stop cracking her knuckles and playing with the string of her cloak.

Less worried about herself, Elizabeth was more so nervous about Jacob. He was meeting Timothy Forge the Grand Master of Templars and his automatic enemy for the first time. Anything could happen in a matter of minutes at his estate. There was definitely going to be a bitterness sweeping around the room. After all, Jacob was picking off his men one by one.

Elizabeth couldn't imagine how  _that_  was going to be brought up at the afternoon tea.

Elizabeth didn't know what to expect of the tea party but prayed it worked in their favour. The best possibility would be if Forge wanted to agree on a seize-fire with Jacob. The worst outcome would be if Jacob was betrayed and lost his life. A lot was riding on today.

If it were Elizabeth, she would've taken the first chance she received to kill Forge. But she would have to drop her own personal vendetta and allow Jacob to deal with him to how he see fit, of course with her influence as well. She only wished the bloody process wasn't taking too long.

Elizabeth hated Forge with a passion for a number of reasons but the main one being – he killed Papa. Simply thinking about her dead father made her feel two major emotions; anger and sadness. Elizabeth was angry he lied to her and her brothers about his Assassin ties but she was also sad he felt the need to cover it up. Elizabeth knew the secret protected them but got Papa killed at the end. Elizabeth wondered if it all was worth it.

But she understood why he hadn't told any of them in her own way. It was hard. Perhaps that's why Elizabeth still kept the secret from her brothers.

Elizabeth quickly changed her thoughts on something else. Her heart hurt every time she thought of Will, Oliver and Papa.

Elizabeth asked the White Doe for clarification, "You understand the plan, correct?"

Vanessa tilted her head at her and bristled, "Of course I do, it's not like it's a difficult task. I only have to trick Till into believing he ordered a home appointment with me this afternoon. After I seduce and fuck him, he won't want to stop and he'll forget about the tea party. Trust me, his greatest weakness is sex."

Her words were awfully confident but her face didn't quite match.

Elizabeth nodded and said, "I'll sneak in after you walk in through the front door. And if by any chance, he was to remember during sex he had an engagement, I will need to have a backup distraction. You simply focus on doing what you do best and I'll handle the rest of it."

"Remind me again how much you two are paying me?"

Jacob piped in, " _A lot_  depending on how well you do. Performance has to meet pay check and if everything goes smoothly – so if the mission isn't comprised by your fault – you'll get at the very least 500."

Vanessa smirked in satisfaction. "With that money, I will  _personally_  make sure everything runs easily."

"Do whatever you need to do," Elizabeth confirmed.

The carriage ride lasted roughly five minutes more until it came to a halt. The Rook who was driving called out to them, "We've arrived at your destination! 34 Hillington!"

Vanessa opened the door and glanced behind her shoulder and said to Elizabeth, "I'll leave a window open for you."

"Thanks."

After she left, the horse carriage picked up again and Jacob and Elizabeth were alone in the carriage. He looked at her peculiarly and asked, "Aren't you getting off right here as well?"

"I told to the driver to drop me off at the curb," Elizabeth explained, "I don't want the guards to see me roaming about. It looks awfully suspicious."

He smirked. "Smart. So what is your backup plan anyways?"

Elizabeth said with reluctance, "I…actually don't have one. If the need of one comes, I'll create a plan on the spot."

"Elizabeth Whittock  _winging_ something? Unbelievable."

"I guess I get it from you," she said and casted a look at Jacob. "I'll be fine though. You should worry about yourself. I still have a bad taste in my mouth regarding this tea party."

Jacob dismissively said, "Enough with the worries.  _You're_  starting to make  _me_  nervous."

"Me? Oh you're doing that quite yourself," Elizabeth took a hold of his hand and cringed. "It's like you just washed your hands in water."

Jacob pulled his hand away and said with a fake annoyance, "Isn't it time you distracted Till now?"

Elizabeth looked out the window and realized the Rook parked at the curb of the house, hidden. It was time for her leave. He was right, she had no more time to spare.

Before she left, she turned to Jacob and said on a serious note, "Don't die."

"Same to you."

"Good luck."

"I won't need it."

"Trust me, you will." And with that, she left the carriage.

Till's estate was a rectangular-shaped mansion with a short shrubbery fence surrounding the premises. It was easy enough to jump over but getting past the many guards was more difficult. She counted at the very least twelve guards circling around the mansion. Elizabeth had to sneak past them in…broad daylight.

This time, it  _wasn't_  going to be piece of cake.

Elizabeth hid behind the fence and slightly peaked around the corner. A flower bed was not far and she could sprint to it behind the guards back. She waited until the guard finally walked the other direction. Without another thought, she quickly rushed into the vegetation and concealed herself. She was located at the side of the house but needed to reach the back. That was where she was going to scale the wall and enter the window Vanessa left open for her.

Elizabeth saw the guard wasn't turning around and instead he blocked her path to have a smoke. Though she rather didn't want to, she began to sneak behind the guard and when he was close enough for contact, she stabbed him in the back with her hidden blade. Before he could cry out, Elizabeth clamped a hand over his mouth and dragged him into the bush.

She proceeded down the side.

Two other guards were in conversation near the corner. Elizabeth watched them and waited a few moments for them to disband but they didn't. So she grabbed a rock that was by her foot and threw it to north of them. They were quickly startles and started looking around. They turned to Elizabeth's direction but she ducked her hooded head just in time.

"What was the hell was that?" the guard said.

"Not too sure, let's check it out," the other one said and both of them left the open area.

Elizabeth silently passed them and was out of sight at the back of the mansion. She looked up and saw a perfect wall to climb. She took a run at the wall to gain height and grabbed the window pane. She continued to scale the wall, avoiding the closed windows so nobody would see her.

After several moments of climbing, Elizabeth heard two voices from a nearby window. Climbing to it, she pressed her to it and eavesdropped.

"What are you doing here?" Till.

"You ordered a home appointment this morning. Have you forgotten?" Vanessa.

"Y- No, no I have not. I have someplace to be soon but I'm sure we won't take long."

Vanessa said seductively, "I make no promises."

A door softly closed and Elizabeth climbed the open window to enter the mansion. Now, all she had to was wait.

/

After Jacob was dropped off in Westminster, the emotionless guards dressed in gray lead him through Forge's estate.

Jacob followed them but also scanned the layout of the house, making a mental note of the weapons hanging on the wall and the open windows. He needed to have possible escape routes if in fact, this did turn out to be a trap. No matter what, Jacob would keep a high alert and caution.

The guards continued to lead Jacob through the expensive house but stopped at heavy double doors. They ushered Jacob through the doors and closed it behind him. The wallpaper was tacky baby blue damask and the carpet was a white Persian. A French raspier hung above the roaring fireplace beside an open window.  _An open window._  He let out a sigh of relief. Well, if things went shit, Jacob simply would jump out the window and sprint. Easy enough.

Jacob turned his attention to the center of the room. There was a wooden table with two chairs. One empty and the other occupied by the notorious Timothy Forge.

He either didn't realize – or didn't want to acknowledge Jacob as he entered the room and continued to read the newspaper in his hands.

Jacob found nothing else to do so he sparked the conversation, "Do you read the news often?"

Forge looked up from the paper and his eyes locked with Jacob's. Slowly, he lowered the paper to reveal a smile on his face. Jacob couldn't tell if it was forced or genuine.

Forge said, "The paper is an excellent way to learn the happenings around London. It gives me a new perspective, sometimes an even better one." Forge placed a hand on his heart and motioned for Jacob towards the chair. "Please take a seat Mr. Frye. We have much to discuss."

Jacob took a seat at the table covered with a doily. There were two teacups – one empty, one half-full – and a blue teapot beside the sugar. On the plates were a variety of sweets like dark chocolate, blueberry scones and tea biscuits. Jacob wanted to eat the delicious looking snacks but he waited until Forge took a bite first. He couldn't be too willing – as Elizabeth's face popped into his head.

Forge began to pour Jacob a cup of tea. Jacob shook his head and laughed. "There is no need for that. I'm perfectly capable of pouring myself a cup."

Forge chuckled too as he handed Jacob the cup, "You are my guest, Mr. Frye, let me treat you."

"Thank you," Jacob said as he took the cup and dropped a sugar cube inside. He drank the tea. It was bittersweet. "And call me Jacob."

"Jacob," he said, "Well on that case, you may call me Timothy as well. Are you doing well, Jacob?"

He gulped as he felt the awkwardness surrounding them. "Yes, I'm doing very pleasant."

"What about your gang. What are they called again? Racks? Nooks?"

Jacob narrowed his eyes and said, "Rooks. It's the Rooks. And yes, they are doing very well. The biggest gang in London."

Forge tapped on his cup and said, "Ah, yes, the gang that exterminated the Blighters."

"Well-"

"There is no need to explain yourself. Those blighters belonged to Starrick. I am not Starrick."

He continued, "Your Rooks caused me no harm, that is, until they started killing innocent Templars in the streets, killing them off one by one. Or…perhaps. Perhaps that was you?"

It was time to talk. Or maybe not.

/

The loud noises of pleasure coming from Till and Vanessa was the only reason Elizabeth hadn't fell asleep. She didn't even what to imagine what was occurring inside that bedroom.

She was located in the upper floor, sitting on a rocking chair beside the open window just in case for a quick getaway. Elizabeth waited and waited for something to happen but luckily, things were quiet – the exception being the room next door.

Finding everything in order, Elizabeth leaned her head back and wondered how Jacob was doing. She hoped he was okay…

Suddenly, Elizabeth's ears heard a sound erupting from the lower floor. It sounded like footsteps. Elizabeth immediately jumped to her feet and went to kneel beside the shadows beside the staircase. Who was this person?

The voice called out, "Father! Where are you?" Till's deaf son? Elizabeth hadn't known he  _lived_ with his father. He was going to un-distract Till.

The son's feet thumped on the staircase. He had a heavy step, and a heavier body to match. What was she going to do? She couldn't knock him out, he likely had a thick skull. She couldn't call him out, she would be exposed and so would Vanessa.

"Are you in your room?" the son asked as he reached the final step.

Things happened so fast, Elizabeth didn't even realize she stood up and punched him in the temple with all her force. Unfortunately for her, the punch merely made the man stagger and rub the coming lump. Oh god. The son turned around and angrily asked, "What the hell?" before attempting to grab Elizabeth. He grabbed Elizabeth and wrapped his sausage hands over her neck. He squeezed. Hard.

"What are you doing in my home!?"

Elizabeth felt her lungs her going to implode. He was really trying to kill her. Elizabeth could only do one thing.

She kicked him right in between the legs. He winced and slightly loosened his grip and Elizabeth was able to take a long, deep breath before shoving the hidden daggers at her wrist in his neck. His eyes widened as blood splurged from his neck and his mouth.

Till and Vanessa were still fucking, not hearing anything that happened. Elizabeth walked backwards until she hit the wall and stared at what she'd done.

The carpet was spilled with blood. A body was right beneath her. She killed Till's son.

How was she going to explain this to Jacob?


	12. Reunion

**12: Reunion**

"Shit, shit, shit," Elizabeth hysterically repeated, barely above a whisper all in an entire breath, " _Holy shit._ "

She paced the room, stopping at each wall and turning to the next but never took her eyes off the body. It was like her eyes were permanently glued to it and however much she tried, she couldn't look away. His lolled tongue…his eyes turned white…his gray zombie skin…

Dead bodies were starting to utterly creep her out, perhaps it was because they always reminded her of Papa's dead body.

Closing her eyes, Elizabeth shook her head and muttered determinedly, "What's done is done. I can't do anything about it now."

After she eventually stopped staring at the dead body by her feet, she pondered frantically on what she could do. Taking the pocket watch out of her pocket, she checked the time and it read  _12:30_. That meant a half hour was left before Jacob was finally finished having tea with Forge.

Elizabeth worriedly wondered how Jacob was doing and if after all, the tea was a trick to kill him or not. But she realized she must cast these worries aside because she had other matters to attend to – like the dead body of the man she just killed. Although the matter of Jacob's life was important to her as well, she needed to quickly decide on what to do with the body before  _her life_ was on the line.

Till's son was dead right outside his bedroom door and if he simply walked out the room to grab a glass of water or visit the toilet, it would take severe blindness not to notice Elizabeth standing over him. That  _surely_ wouldn't be a good impression, bloody hell, Till would strangle Elizabeth and kill her before even attempting to interrogate her.

What would she do?

Elizabeth could leave the mansion but she felt guilty about the idea of leaving Vanessa alone with Till. He may think Vanessa had something to do with the murder and that was the last thing Elizabeth wanted. Vanessa's life shouldn't be in trouble for the stupid mistake Elizabeth made. She promised Vanessa her life wouldn't be in danger and she would stick to her word.

But it also wasn't like Elizabeth could stay and wait until Vanessa was finished having sex with Till. In that case,  _both_ of them would be questioned.

It seemed Elizabeth could only do one thing – she needed to make it appear the son never even visited the estate. She needed to hide the dead body.

The carpet was stained with blood so that needed to be get rid of as well. Till wouldn't notice a missing carpet, right? Or a son? Elizabeth's heart and thoughts raced while her palms began to sweat. She couldn't believe what she had done – she created another problem within a problem.

She  _had_  to fix it.

_Get rid of the carpet, get rid of the body. No loose ends,_  Elizabeth thought as she rolled the body over and over in the carpet until it was fully wrapped in the cylinder. She dragged the carpeted body to the window and looked outside. To her luck, all the guards were absent and the coast was clear.

_Thank you,_ she thought, particular to no one.

Before she left, Elizabeth pressed her ear against the bedroom door and listened Vanessa's and Till's elevating moans. They were really going at it…it sounded like they were nearly done. That meant Elizabeth was pressed for time. She was going to need to move quicker.

Elizabeth looked down the two-story window and with exhaust, she managed to push the body out of the window. Watching it fall down and land on the grass made her feel guilty but she reminded herself he was already dead by her hand – that  _should_  have made her feel guilty.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Elizabeth said to herself as she hopped out the window and began to climb down the wall.

She kept checking over her shoulder to make sure no guards saw her or spotted the body she dropped. With no one in proximity, Elizabeth touched her feet on the ground and sprinted to the body and began to drag it with all her force. It took a lot of wind out of her, god, if only the son wasn't so heavy-set.

Dragging the body behind the bush, Elizabeth peered for an exit and found one standing adjacent to her. Elizabeth took her chance and quickly carried the body towards the exit.

She saw people near her looking at her oddly. No wonder. A girl dragging a bloody carpet was awfully suspicious. But Elizabeth didn't pay attention to the strangers because all she was looking for was an open carriage to steal.

Looking around, she found nothing and Elizabeth huffed angrily. She wouldn't get far carrying a bloody carpet until somebody noticed a body was inside.

Damnit. Damnit. Damnit.

What was she going to do? Stroll down the street with it as if it were a puppy?

Elizabeth couldn't help but start to panic.

Suddenly, she saw something approaching her in the distance. A horse carriage. Elizabeth narrowed her eyes to focus on it and realized who was driving it.

Will and Mary.

At that moment, Elizabeth believed there was a God right then and there.

Mary acknowledged from the passenger seat, "That's your sister!"

"Elizabeth?" Will asked as he steered the horse to her direction, "What is  _that_?"

He looked at the carpet curiously, not knowing there was a dead body inside.

Elizabeth exclaimed, "Not now! Just get off the horse and help me put it in the carriage!"

Will was startled at her sudden outburst but did as she said. He jumped off the horse and took one the ends of the carpet and looked inside.

His eyes widened and he whispered, "I-Is that a body?"

"Oh my god," Mary gasped while she placed her hands over her mouth.

Through clenched teeth, Elizabeth said, "Yes. Yes, it is. Now, help me hide it."

"What the bloody hell, Elizabeth!"

Even though Will was shocked and even  _disgusted_ , he helped Elizabeth place the body in the carriage. After that, she jumped inside the carriage with it and told Will, "Drive.  _Now_."

/

Jacob tried his best to be appear confident by holding his head high but it failed – he was the most uncomfortable he'd been in his entire life.

Timothy Forge called Jacob out on the fact that he, alongside with Elizabeth, assassinated at the very least  _ten_ of his closest associates. He rightfully confronted him and Jacob gave his best answer, even though it sounded completely rubbish. Jacob didn't know what he expected Forge's conversation to be like.

For Forge to be completely OK with the assassinations and become all buddy-buddy with Jacob?

Jacob couldn't judge, if it was Forge killing his men, he surely wouldn't be able to control his actions and ultimately kill the man.

Though there was one thing Jacob was grateful for – it turned out the afternoon tea was for a call of a truce, not a betrayal. However, the tea was still not over yet, who knew what could happen until then. He would continue to keep his alert up.

During the tea, Jacob asked Forge, "And how would this… _truce_ work?"

"It's simple, I don't kill your Assassins and you don't kill my Templars. London will be back to peace and harmony."

Jacob drawled, "I've never heard of a Templar – Assassin truce." He smirked. "It seems rather impossible."

Forge smiled. "Then let's make history. Things don't always have to be one way. Things change, people change."

Jacob knew Forge was untrustworthy and didn't believe a word he said but still listened.

He asked an important question, "What about London? Who will control it?"

"Both of us, hopefully," Forge explained, "London shouldn't be controlled one group, that makes them too powerful. We share London as we share an alliance."

An alliance? With  _Templars_?

"Not to sound pessimistic, but how can I trust you? I've killed many of your men. Who says you won't do the same?" Jacob decided to bring it to the table once again.

Forge's eyes hardened and he seriously said, "If I wanted you or your Assassins dead I would have done it by now." Jacob had a feeling that statement was something alone the lines of a threat.

"This is a lot to think about out," Jacob lied, "But I agree with you, we have much to discuss but I'm willing to work it out."

Forge smiled with crooked teeth. "Thank you for your time, Jacob, it was very pleasant to meet you finally. I look forward to out next encounter."

Hopefully pleasant…

Jacob nodded his head and offered a fake genuine-looking smile and shook Forge's outdrawn hand.

"You as well, thank you for the tea."

Forge stood from his seat and Jacob did also. Forge directed him to the door and said, "Here, allow me to escort you to the door."

As they exited the parlour, a fancy dressed woman stepped down the staircase and eyed Jacob with narrowed icy blue eyes. Although Jacob guessed she was in her 40's, she was stunning with golden blonde hair and a soft face. But there was something chilling about her that Jacob couldn't quite pin.

Perhaps it was because the woman looked oddly…familiar.

Forge introduced her, "This is my wife Octavia, Jacob."

Jacob didn't know Forge had a wife. Did he have any children too?

Octavia curtsied and said in a honey sweet voice, "A pleasure to meet you."

"You as well."

She smiled from ear to ear and soothed, "Well, I believe I shall leave you two for now. A good day."

With that, Octavia left and Jacob and Forge were left alone.

"I never knew you had a wife," Jacob asked, "do you have children?"

Jacob swore Forge's eyes shifted as he said, "Yes, one daughter. She's already married and has left the house. They all grow up so fast."

Jacob agreed and he said his goodbyes to Forge. After, he was able to leave the estate with all his limbs and he took the first free breath of relief.

Though Jacob was happy to get the entire tea party over with, he had more questions than ever regarding Till's family, the proposed alliance and his unknown daughter. Why keep them hidden from the public eye?

But before he could worry about anything else, he needed to get Elizabeth. Hopefully everything was normal on her side…

/

While Elizabeth sat quietly in the carriage, she listened to the on-going conversation between her brother and his girlfriend.

Mary asked with disbelief, "So, let me get this straight– you're just going to  _help_  her hide the body? No questions asked?" Elizabeth understood Mary's concerns. It really wasn't right.

"I have to," Will sighed, "She's my sister."

Elizabeth nearly smiled at this comment. It was rather rare of Will to say something along those lines.

"Just because she's your sister doesn't mean you must help  _her get away with murder_."

Will said, "I love you, Mary, but I'm doing this no matter what you say. Elizabeth would help me do the same, I know she would. It's not exactly moral but she's my blood."

"Whatever you say," Mary huffed and silence encompassed them.

Elizabeth was rather surprised at Will's words regarding the last time they spoke, they had a major fight. It was a stupid argument that blew out of proportion but it still stopped them from reconciling. Elizabeth was never close with her brother but he was right – he was her blood. Family was family no matter what.

Perhaps after this whole incident was over with, Elizabeth could forgive her brother.

/

Will dropped Mary off at home while he waited with Elizabeth for nightfall.

They decided to dispose of the body in River Thames instead of burying it. They didn't have enough strength for two people to dig a large enough hole. Even if they wanted to bury the body, they didn't have the proper space to do it. Will lived in a flat, Elizabeth in a train – they obviously didn't have a personal backyard to use.

Dumping the body in the river at night turned out to be the best solution. Because of the late hour, nobody would be present to witness the crime. Of course, a body in water was easier to find then a body six feet under but Elizabeth didn't care whether or not it was found. She simply didn't want the body to be found at the mansion while Elizabeth and Vanessa were still present.

The police couldn't connect Elizabeth with the crime as long as she changed her wardrobe for a while.

"How'd you," Will grunted as he carried the body over his shoulder, "manage to carry this body that far anyways?"

Elizabeth was looking guard and she distractedly answered, "I'm stronger than I look."

"I can  _confirm_  that," he said before dumping the body in the river and cleaning his hands. "There, it's done."

She asked, "How long do you think it will be till they find his body?"

"I'd guess about a week or two. There are usually many ships above the river and none of them would be directly searching for a dead body."

Shrugging her shoulder, she said, "It doesn't matter anyways, he's father won't be a problem soon." Will had not the foggiest what she meant and didn't wish to know either.

"We should probably leave now, before people suddenly arrive."

"Right," Elizabeth said as Will and herself climbed aboard the carriage. Will started driving and Elizabeth felt she had to say something. "Will…I heard what you said to Mary before."

"Oh," Will said with a frown, "she does like you, y'know. She just finds the whole situation odd."

Elizabeth sighed, "I can't blame her, I really messed up this time. I feel like I've been doing that a lot lately."

"Everybody makes mistakes, nobody gets everything right on their first try," Will smiled. "Look at me for example."

Elizabeth chuckled and punched him in the arm. "You've been  _perfect_ compared to me."

"How perfect can I be if I helped my sister hide a dead body?"

Putting a finger to her lips, she scrunched her nose. "Not that perfect actually – but still, thank you Will for doing this for me. I would have been in deep shit without you."

He light-heartedly asked, "What else are brothers for?"

"Other than lecturing and fighting with?"

They both laughed and Elizabeth felt genuinely happy with Will.

"I missed you," she said abruptly that it even surprised herself.

He looked at her with raised eyebrows but his face soon morphed into a grin. "I did too. I'm sorry for what I said before, I was stupid and clueless."

"Me as well. I was wrong to say Mary was untrustworthy. She seems like a very intelligent and kind woman, I'm happy you're with her."

He was touched by her words and he responded, "Though I was skeptical at first, I'm happy you're with Jacob as well."

"What?"

Will looked confused, "You're with Jacob. Aren't you two an item or something? You two are awfully close."

Elizabeth thought before she responded. Her and Jacob? An item?

The fact it took serious thought whether or not it was true, scared her. But Jacob and Elizabeth were just partners. Just friends… right? Elizabeth cared for Jacob more than she cared to admit but was it  _anything more_? Was it weird every time she was with Jacob, she felt like she could be herself, or that she felt protected around him or that whenever he touched her, Elizabeth would feel a punch in the stomach.

This was normal with friends, wasn't it? It had to be…

"W-We're just partners. He's helping me and I'm helping him, it's only business."

Will raised his eyebrows before smiling a I-Know-Something-You-Don't grin and drawled, "Right."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and exclaimed, "Can you please just drive!"

"Of course, sis, where do you want me to take you?" Will offered, "Would you like to come to our flat for a bit?"

Elizabeth shook her head, "No, I'm sorry, I have to go to the train. I have to see if Jacob's all right and he's probably waiting for me still."

" _Just business._ "

She gasped and glared at her brother. "Enough!"

Will continued to have a stupid grin on his face as he drove to the train station while Elizabeth was in deep, long thought about what Jacob  _really meant to her._


	13. Fight Club

**13: Fight Club**

Will eventually dropped Elizabeth off at the train station later on that night but the siblings wouldn't bid farewell until a mutual agreement was made between the two.

An agreement they would see each other once again and in  _soon_ time. To outsiders, it may have seemed like a simple agreement but it meant plenty more than that for the Whittock siblings. It was a promise – a vow that meant to keep their family near and dear and for absolutely  _nothing_  in the future to pull apart the strong bond siblings should always have.

She didn't lie or have to come up with some elaborate excuse to get herself out of the promise. Elizabeth full-heartedly agreed because she genuinely wished to see Will and Oliver again.

They were her brothers – they were  _family._

_Family._

_Family._

_Family._

The word still felt odd to her, especially the undefined meaning that came with it. The meaning 'family always had your back' which turned out to be completely true when Will aided Elizabeth hide the body of a man she killed. Will didn't even ask many questions about it; he did it only because Elizabeth was his sister.

Elizabeth would never forget what her older brother did for her.

Luckily, it was a good memory.

She confidently invited herself to his flat the following week. Will was more than inviting and appreciated Elizabeth took the initiative first. He didn't think she would be that forgiving that soon and was thoroughly surprised but not nearly as much as Elizabeth was with her own behaviour. Perhaps it didn't fit well with her typical attitude but somehow, ever since this past year, Papa's death and meeting Jacob Frye, she was obviously changing.

Some would argue for the better or for the worse but Elizabeth liked to believe it wasn't the latter.

Elizabeth was quite looking forward to visiting actually, especially excited to see Oliver who she last saw too long ago. Was he still going to Dame school, or did he fully join Clara's own gang of orphans? Elizabeth felt guilty for not checking up on her younger brother's life earlier and hoped that he wouldn't have any bitter feelings towards her. If he was still the innocent, twelve-year-old boy she remembered, he wouldn't.

But who knew what type of person he became during this time? She would soon enough find out.

Though Elizabeth was nervous, the thought of them all brought together reminded her of past pleasant memories which she desired to relive.

Overall, Elizabeth felt content – something she hadn't felt in a long time. Though it took her months to admit, she dearly missed her brothers. She made an abundance of excuses why she didn't bother seeing them but they were all lies. Papa once told her, 'Time should always be made for family' and Elizabeth only realized now, how true her father's words really were.

She now had a glimmer of hope once Forge was dead, her relationship with Will and Oliver would turn back to normal. As normal as it could be after the siblings going through all that shit…but still  _normal_.

Of course for this dream of Elizabeth's to ever turn into a reality, she needed to keep quiet about Papa's secret about his lineage. It would complicate things and she felt it was unnecessary for them to know.

Elizabeth still couldn't comprehend why she felt this way but there was one thing she was sure of;

_Her brothers could never know Papa was an Assassin._

/

Elizabeth entered the stationed train at midnight and found Jacob waiting for her in the main cart as expected. Unlike him usually laying on the couch with his feet dangling off the sides and relaxing, he was currently in an anxious state with his posture as stiff as a pole. He stared blankly at the ground while his fingers were intertwined in between his knees which shook up and down at a rapid rate.

To Elizabeth's relief, he was in one piece and she couldn't spot one scratch on his head. That meant tea with Forge went well enough he survived.

Before Elizabeth could say something, Jacob finally spotted her and immediately grabbed her by both shoulders and began to shake her. He blubbered, "Where were you? I was bloody worried! I was going - "

"Jacob!" she exclaimed with a smile on her face and held his hands that were placed on her shoulders. It was odd, usually if someone was this protective of Elizabeth she would tell them to sod off but with Jacob, it was surprisingly endearing because it was a sign he cared. It caused her chest to feel warm, often as it did around Jacob. "I'm all right, please calm down," she defended, taking his hands off her shoulders.

Jacob scanned Elizabeth's body, starting from her face to determine she was unharmed. His eyes stopped at the hem of her dark cloak which was stained with fresh blood. Elizabeth soon realized what he was so intently staring at and shrugged her shoulder and bristled, "No worries, Jacob, the blood's not mine."

"That's pleasant to hear," he drawled with an approving nod, "but then that still leaves the question:  _who's_  blood is it?"

Elizabeth shifted her eyes and nonchalantly asked, "How did your tea go with Forge? I can obviously see you're all right but inform me on the details,"

She was clearly attempting to steer the conversation in a different direction. Though Jacob wasn't fooled that easily.

He said, "I'll tell you how things went on my part if you tell me how things went on your part first."

Elizabeth considered shooting him an annoyed glare but refrained and caved in, "Fine, I'll tell you,"

So, Elizabeth told him the entire story of killing Till's son. How Vanessa kept Till distracted, her escape with Will and her late night run to the River Thames to dispose of the body.

Jacob's face went through many looks; curiosity to shock to curiosity back to shock again.

After she was done, Jacob only said after, "And I thought  _my_ day was interesting."

Elizabeth laughed and said, "It was quite eventful, yes, but I'm still more interested to hear about your tea party with Forge. C'mon, Jacob, let me pour you a drink as you spill the details."

"Ale with ice, please," he said, "And to start, well, it was the biggest mansion I've ever seen, a little tacky for my taste though…"

/

"Elizabeth!" Oliver exclaimed with a bright grin on his face as he saw his older sister for the first time in four months. He quickly dropped the history book he was intensively reading and ran into Elizabeth's open arms.

Elizabeth said happily while embracing him, "I missed you dearly. How is life treating you little brother?"

"Not too bad, really," he answered, still excited from seeing Elizabeth, "School is school, interesting but typical. However, things with Clara and the orphans are absolutely brilliant! I truly believe we've helped the lives of many orphans in London! I simply love it, Elizabeth, I wouldn't wish to do anything else."

She smiled at his answer.

Although she preferred Oliver to focus on school and education and away of harms way, she wanted him to be happy overall, which he seemed with Clara. Despite Elizabeth's doubts, if this was what Oliver wished to do, Elizabeth would support it.

"That's good to hear. I'm happy things are going well."

He asked, "What about you? Are you doing well?"

Was Elizabeth doing well? Though her father's murderer still ran free, her life wasn't all bad. She had a place she called home, a man she could always count on and she wasn't in poverty anymore.

"Yes, I'm very well."

"Glad to hear it," he said, "Now, c'mon to the parlour, Will and Mary are there."

So Elizabeth followed him to see only smiles in the parlour. Will was an amazing host and their conversation was never dull. Overall, it was surreal for Elizabeth to be together with her brothers. She felt comfortable and safe. It was pleasant, it was all fun and laughter.

But there was still something that felt  _odd._ Or better to say  _someone_.

Didn't Will say Mary had no dislike for her? She must have lied because for a reason Elizabeth couldn't fathom, Mary wouldn't look into her eyes.

/

The truce between Assassin's and Templar's left the city of London in a prolonged silence which was more eerie than peaceful.

The Rooks were informed not to attack any remaining Blighters and they hadn't taken it lightly. Many exited the gang, believing they had no purpose in it if they couldn't beat the shit out of some Templars. Elizabeth understood their point of view – what was the point of being in an Assassin-affiliated gang if they weren't even supposed to oppose the Templars? Nevertheless, Jacob was unhappy about the false loyalty of his gang members and tried his hard efforts to recruit new people but it was difficult considering any interest of joining the Rooks was long gone.

As for the Assassin-Templar truce, Jacob told Elizabeth the best way to describe it was like walking on thin ice. You never knew when it would crack and you would fall into the cold water. Forge and Jacob 'controlled' London together, occasionally having meetings and tea to discuss the conflicts around the city and how they could find an Assassin and Templar solution to it.

Jacob described working with Forge less as being nerve-wracking and anxious. He never knew when and if Forge would betray him so he constantly kept a high alert. There were also the negotiations they would often have which felt utterly  _wrong_ to Jacob. He thought he was fraternizing with the enemy. Jacob lost confidence and believed he was making a fool of the 'Master Assassin' title. He desperately needed the aid of his twin sister who was over a thousand miles away in India. Thus, he actually wrote a letter to, requesting her arrival to London.

Yesterday, she responded with a simple, 'I will arrive in a fortnight.'

Evie Frye was coming back to London with many, many things to say to Jacob.

/

On a cool evening in February, Elizabeth completed all of her errands of the day early and was rather bored on the train alone. She tried to read but her head couldn't wrap around the words that moment. She also tried to go to bed but it was too early for her to fall asleep. There were a few Rooks on board so she stroked up a conversation with them and after some small talk, they informed her where Jacob was – the fight club.

Jacob always brought back more money he left with. He never lost. He had been going there more often, needing an outlet after not being able to punch any Rooks but that wasn't all of it, he was also underneath a lot of stress. With the truce with Forge to the loss of his gang, the twenty-two year old Assassin was taking on too much than he could handle.

Elizabeth helped him but it always circled back to Jacob no matter what.

_It wouldn't be too bad of an idea to see him at the fight club, make sure he really is all right,_ Elizabeth thought as the train started to slow at the Whitechapel train station. As it finally to came to full halt, she jumped out of the cart and into the mess of people at the station. She gently pushed them away while she tried to get passed them.

Getting past all the Whitechapel folks, she exited the station and entered the familiar streets. She walked along the bright streets to the fight club. It was an odd feeling, being back in Whitechapel and walking through the streets.

She saw the factory she used to work at,  _Forge Steel_. Elizabeth couldn't help but glare at it in irony. This was the place she was going to put her life and soul to. Who knew it should have belonged to her father.

Elizabeth entered the dark fight club to see the majority male audience turn their attention away from who was in the rink to the her. Some glared at her, some lustfully grinned at her and some simply didn't care she was here. Elizabeth ignored their looks and began to move towards the crowd.

Suddenly a loud voice erupted, "Don't just stand there, big boy!" That was Jacob. From the ring.

Elizabeth stood on her tippy toes and caught a glance at him. It was still small and Elizabeth couldn't see much but she could make out that Jacob was fighting a tall, heavy-set bald man. The longer she peeked glances, she realized Jacob was winning.

She felt oddly proud.

But before she could move any further to get a better view, sausage fingers wrapped around her wrist and it took her a minute before she recognized who it was. Ketelbee. The fat shopkeeper in Whitechapel who sold her groceries.

He was also the man who sold Elizabeth the faux tonic that did nothing to cure Papa.

"Young girls like you shouldn't be here," Ketelbee said to her with a serious face until he recognized her, "Is that you, Elizabeth?"

"Yes, it is," Elizabeth hissed as she tore her wrist away, "And I don't think old shopkeepers should be here either. Never know when they might just throw you in the ring for fun."

He sighed and placed a finger on his temple. He muttered, "I now remember how much of a smart ass you are. I'm just making bets, it's a good way to roll in some extra cash for the shop."

"Oh, did sales decrease because  _you were selling faulty items_?"

"I-I have no idea what you're talking about. And that is not -"

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, "Please shut up. Everyone in Whitechapel and their mother knows how shady your shop is."

He continued to protest, "I didn't know they were faulty, I thought it was the real thing, I swear!"

"It doesn't matter now; my father is already dead."

Ketelbee furrowed his brows and stuttered, "I'm sorry to hear that. But you seem like you're doing well, in fact you look completely different!"

She sarcastically said, "Thanks."

"So what are you doing in here anyways," he chuckled with crooked teeth, "trying to find a suitable man to protect you?"

Elizabeth narrowed her gray eyes at him and coldly said, "I beg your pardon?"

He was taken aback by her annoyance. He thought she was going to laugh. "It was a joke! Don't you youngsters joke all the time?"

"I knew it was a joke, it just wasn't funny. What makes you think I'm not here to make bets too… bloody hell, would you faint if I go in the ring myself?"

He began to fall into a deep laugh and brought his head back. Elizabeth only stared at him.

"That's hilarious, Elizabeth! You can't do that!"

Now, she was annoyed.

"Then fucking watch me."


	14. Blind Eyes

**14: Blind Eyes**

Elizabeth roughly shoved the annoying shopkeeper aside and entered the herded crowd without once looking back at him.

She always disliked Ketelbee even from the first she met him at only twelve years old. He wasn't creepy or a manipulative man; he had a much worse characteristic – he was a complete fool. He was utterly slow – physically  _and_ mentally – and never understood the concept of empathy. He frowned upon the poor despite the fact if his own bank was compared to another Whitechapel man, they would likely have similar amounts. Ketelbee was the biggest hypocrite she knew.

He also believed women were pretty decorations that were to always remain at the house and be seen, not heard.

Elizabeth not only disagreed with that idea, she hated it.

When Elizabeth told him she was working at the factory, he believed she was joking because steel was a 'dangerous material for women to behold' and being in that environment was 'unladylike'. Neither did he believe her when she told him she was the breadwinner of the household.

He laughed in her face because apparently…women can't be in a responsible position.

Because apparently, women can't work labour and earn as much as a man.

Because apparently, women should supervise the children, clean the house and cook for their husbands.

Because apparently, women can't enter a fight club ring.

Because apparently, women are weak and incompetent.

_Every man in London thought like that._

Well, not every man, she supposed there were a few exceptions like her brothers and  _Jacob._

Jacob was…different.

He wasn't like other men which was why Elizabeth tolerated – no, she liked him.

Any woman would be lucky to have a man like Jacob. He would care for her, cherish her and love her with all his heart – he would make an excellent lover. It surprised Elizabeth when she was told by Jacob he never had an actual lover or girlfriend. He said he would only have casual hookups with random women but Elizabeth didn't know how true this was because ever since Elizabeth moved in, Jacob hadn't brought any females home or even talked about it.

But Elizabeth was grateful for this – she didn't like the idea of another woman sleeping with Jacob.

In fact, she despised it.

Elizabeth didn't want another woman romantically involved with Jacob.

That woman would only come between them.

But why would it matter if that even happened?

_It's not as if he is your lover,_ Elizabeth mentally told herself,  _he can be with whomever he wishes._

Yet when Elizabeth thought that, she knew in her heart she was lying.

The men, mostly the miscreants and gamblers of Whitechapel were very enthusiastic about the fight, roaring louder than lions. She understood their excitement. Jacob was an entertaining fighter, one that taunted his opponent while being flashy and rough.

Trying to slid through the crowd of cheering men, Elizabeth dodged their fists that were circling in the air and went around the heavy bodies blocking her path to the front. After she finally squeezed her way to the ring, her view on Jacob fighting the rotund man was as clear as glass.

Jacob was  _shirtless_  – Elizabeth never had seen him without at least a tank on. She felt the weird need of looking away but she couldn't, she only stared at his muscular body which had the perfect amount of hair on it. Bloody hell. Elizabeth's cheeks raised with heat as she continued to gaze at him. There was another thing that also caught Elizabeth's eye. How had she not known Jacob had tattoos before? There was one on his broad chest, on the left was a large inked out bird and on his shoulder was a cross surrounded by dots.

She wondered what they meant to him and why he had got them.

Jacob suddenly yelled at his rotund opponent, "That all you got?" The opponent was now punched in the jaw by Jacob, he staggered and fell back, obviously winded.

Jacob was going to win soon. She needed to stop watching – which was weirdly difficult to do – and talk to the ringleader.

Elizabeth approached the ringleader who was intently watching the match. When Elizabeth tapped him on the shoulder with two fingers, he turned to her, annoyed, but still kept his eyes on the match, not wanting to miss a single thing.

He briskly asked, "What do you want, girl?"

Elizabeth explained, "I want to face the victor next."

The man scoffed, finally turning towards her with an incredulous look. He said," _You_ want to face  _him_. He's been winning for ten rounds, what makes you think you can win against him? You're just a woman!"

"That's exactly how I will win," she said with a mocking tone, " _I'm just a woman_."

The ringleader shook his head. "I'm not allowing you go in there, you'll get pummelled to death, sweetheart, go home and sew or something."

_Prick._

Elizabeth sighed in frustrations as she took a few shillings out of her pocket. She was really sick and tired of having to bribe people. Dropping the coins under his nose, she ordered, "Put me in the bloody ring."

The ringleader looked at her cautiously but eventually took her few coins and reluctantly agreed, "Fine, go get ready, you're going in next."

She nodded and stripped her cloak and weapons, leaving only her pants and shirt on. She tucked her belongings neatly underneath a table so it would be less likely for them to be stolen – you never could be too careful in Whitechapel.

Elizabeth leaned against the wooden barrier separating the crowd from the ring where Jacob was punching his opponent in the stomach repeatedly. Soon enough, he fell, knocked out. Jacob smiled in satisfaction and looked towards the crowd and raised his fist in the air.

He hadn't noticed Elizabeth in the crowd.

"Anybody else? Anybody at all?"

The ringleader spoke up, "Do you wish to leave with the profit you have now or fight to win more?"

Jacob exclaimed, "I'll fight until dawn!" The crowd praised in agreement.

"The next opponent is entering the ring now," the ring leader said in a monotone, already regretting Elizabeth enter the fight.

Jacob's back was faced to the other side and couldn't see Elizabeth as she jumped over the barrier and walked in the ring. She could only imagine a smug grin that was etched across his face.

He was boasting to the other side of the crowd, "He still thinks he can beat me? C'mon, you, poor, foolish bloke. But who knows? Perhaps you'll learn a few things."

Jacob was always one cocky son-of-a-bitch.

_Let's see how cocky he'll be when he sees who his opponent is._

Elizabeth spoke up while approaching the centre of the ring, "I believe you've already taught me everything though."

Jacob spun around with surprise. His red face turned to a pale white as he squinted his eyes, as if to confirm if it really was Elizabeth in the ring with him.

He stuttered, "E-Elizabeth? What the bloody hell are you doing?"

She said, "What do you think I'm doing? I'm not in the ring just to dance with you."

"You want to fight me?" He asked uncertainly while pointing at his chest.

"Yes," she said.

"No." He chuckled, "No. No way in hell. I'm not going to fight you."

Elizabeth narrowed her and crossed her arms over her chest. She blurted, "Why not? We spar all the time."

"This is not a spar, love, this is a  _fight_. A fight until the other person goes down."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, "I already know this, then lets get on with it, shall we?"

"I'm not going to hit you," he determinedly said.

"Fine," Elizabeth said as she cracked her knuckles and smirked at him, "then allow me."

She swung her left fist towards Jacob's cheek, gentle enough not to break anything but hard enough for him to grunt in pain.

"You hit me!" He exclaimed while gripped his cheek with wide eyes.

Elizabeth said, now circling around him like he was prey and she was the predator, "Isn't that the entire point?"

Jacob shook his head with the corners of his lips lifting. He looked at the ground and placed his arms at his waist. He humidly said with a devilishly handsome smirk, "You want to play this game, Whittock? Then let's play."

"Ready when you are, Frye,"

Elizabeth ignored the smile on his face and focused on his feet, his movement. He was starting to move alongside Elizabeth, both of them circling each other, waiting for one of them to step up and make a move.

Jacob was the first.

He suddenly tried to jab Elizabeth in the stomach but she dodged it, side-stepping to the right just in time. Jacob retried that move once more, this time swinging harder and faster but Elizabeth again, side-stepped.

Jacob ran a hand through his neck-length hair and said, "Running away, are we?"

"It's better than sloppy, untimed hits." Jacob narrowed his eyes and began to rethink his position.

After more minutes of Jacob trying to hit and Elizabeth dodging, the crowd grew bored and yelled, "Just hit her already! Stop going easy on her!"

Elizabeth looked at Jacob, who was in fighting stance, to come. "I believe they're right, Jacob, stop going easy on me. Imagine I'm another man you're fighting."

"If you were just another lad I was fighting, you'd be knocked out by now."

The tension between was high. It felt like they were burning alive.

"Are you saying I'm a good fighter then? Or you just won't hit a female?" she breathed with a raised brow.

"STOP TALKING TO EACH OTHER!" A deep voice from the crowd yelled.

Jacob rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to Elizabeth, this time taking a step closer with his fists blocking his temples. He answered, "Yes, you're a good fighter but I'm not going easy because you're a female. I'm going easy on you because you're  _you_."

She asked, "What does that supposed to mean?"

"It means," he said, "I don't want to hurt because you don't hurt the people you love."

Elizabeth was visibly struck by his words. Did he just tell Elizabeth he… _loved her_?

No.

He didn't mean it that way.

He  _couldn't._

Elizabeth didn't know what else to do so she stuttered went in for a punch which he grabbed with his hand. Elizabeth pulled her hand away and stuttered, "D-Don't go easy on me!"

Elizabeth was becoming sloppy, less fast and efficient, her punches were slower and missed. Jacob dodged them and as Elizabeth was getting tired. She tried to punch him but her arms flailed, this time Jacob grabbed her in a head lock.

Her back was pressed against his sweaty chest, she could practically hear his fast heartbeat but Elizabeth's was going even faster. She was so close to him; she was too close to him. It was uncomfortable and so surreal, she didn't even notice Jacob was pinning her.

All she could focus on was his scent.

His body.

His heat.

_Him._

Without even thinking, Elizabeth titled her head back so it was only inches away from his ear.

The elastic band that was their friendship stretched with tension and it finally snapped.

She looked at his brown eyes and said, not quite believing her eyes and breathlessly said, "Kiss me."

Jacob suddenly let his tight grasp on her go but still stood just as close. He raised his eyebrows and stuttered, "W-what?"

But before Elizabeth could answer, her hands were already on his face, feeling the prickly hairs of his stubble on her fingertips before she crashed her lips onto his.

Jacob was taken aback for a moment but then he relaxed, easing into the passionate kiss and sliding his fingers into her hair. It was electric, messy and rough – nothing was gentle about it. It felt like it was prolonged and their lips were waiting to meet for a million years.

The crowd shouted in disgust and confusion but Elizabeth nor Jacob paid attention to them.

The only thing in the world at that moment was  _them_.

But as soon as their lips were connected, their lips were disconnected.

Elizabeth tore away, holding her bottom lip while looking at Jacob with horror.

"Oh my god," she whispered to herself, not even remembering where she was or the heckling angry crowd.

"Elizabeth," he said, trying to near himself but she stumbled back, shaking her head.

She muttered, "No, no, that did not happen," She looked at Jacob with shock. "I-I have to go."

"Wait!" he exclaimed while trying to grab her arm but she was too quick, jumping over the ring in a swift motion. She grabbed her belongings and pushed past the angry men who were looking at her like she was a complete psycho.

Not Ketelbee though, he had a smug grin on his face.

Elizabeth remembered what he said, 'Here to find a man to protect you.'

Elizabeth tore her eyes away with shame and exited the fight club, running as fast as her legs could take her.

/

Meanwhile, on an high and damaged rooftop in Whitechapel, a young woman stiffly stood in position while she watched the streets underneath hooded eyes.

She was equipped with a dozen throwing knifes – her given speciality – and looked ready to murder. Though she never killed a man or woman before, her forced occupation tonight was to be a cold-blooded mercenary. The young woman had no choice in the matter, it was her boss's orders.

Whatever  _she_ ordered, the young woman did.

Enough time passed and the stalling was being noticed.

It was time to do the deed.

The young woman peered at the entrance of the fight club where Elizabeth Whittock ran out of the fight club looking…distressed.

She would give her the favour of a quick death.


	15. Interruption

**15: Interruption**

Jacob was aware Elizabeth was a fast runner but he hadn't quite realized how  _fast_ she truly was. Hell, she had a good chance to beat his twin sister in a race if the moment ever appeared so it made complete sense as to why Jacob found it extremely difficult to catch up to Elizabeth even when he wasted no time to chase her.

At the fight club, he grabbed his items and immediately ran after her. He hadn't bothered to collect his winning profits in hopes of reaching Elizabeth in time but there was no such luck. It was the quickest Jacob ran but compared to Elizabeth's sprint, he was practically on a relaxing slow stroll.

Jacob had no clue as to where Elizabeth was even intending to run to. She definitely wasn't going in the direction of the train so where was -

Oh.

She was fleeing to her brother's flat.  _Shit._

Jacob didn't wish to imagine the insane earful he would hear from Will once he was informed on what occurred between them even though it was as harmless as paying a compliment. But was Elizabeth's kiss truly that harmless? Jacob kisses with several women from the past were as such but his kiss with Elizabeth was definitely different.

Her kiss had an impact Jacob would remember for ages and left him wanting for more.

He still couldn't believe they kissed, more so surprised Elizabeth was the one who initiated it.

The kiss was…unexpected and rough and  _short_ , not that it entirely mattered. Jacob was waiting for that kiss for six months now and it turned out to be better than he imagined. The moment was right, the chemistry was there and their tension was strong. It was  _perfect_.

His partnership started merely based on respect but it blossomed into a friendship he wouldn't dream of ruining. Elizabeth  _was_ Jacob's best friend – she was his support and exactly the person he needed in his life. And as time went on, he realized he wanted more than a friendship. He always wanted more, he simply didn't know it yet and there was never a moment he didn't.

Elizabeth was distant and had an icy heart but Jacob wanted to set it ablaze.

He always wondered if his feelings were unrequited. Elizabeth showed she cared for him on many occasions but he never could figure out if her feelings were platonic or romantic. Now he knew…

There was simply something about Elizabeth that Jacob wanted to explore and as he did, he fell for her…hard.

He didn't know if he loved her or not. Jacob had never been in love before and didn't know what it felt like. How would he be capable of classifying his feelings?

Yet there was one thing Jacob was completely sure about his feelings; he wanted Elizabeth and nobody else.

He didn't care for how long but he needed it to be now or never. He couldn't be patient any longer. Perhaps that was selfish but this time, he couldn't give a rat's ass.

"I'm bloody  _begging_ you," while he was trailing her a few metres behind, Jacob called out in a tone that was something between desperation and frustration, "Stop. Fucking. Running. Elizabeth."

Elizabeth stopped so fast in her tracks, her heels made a scratching noise against the pavement. She turned around with stone-cold eyes. Even though her face was twisted with confusion and anger, Jacob found the vulnerability in her face beautiful. Was that terrible of him?

She asked with a deadly stare, "What do you want to say?"

He gulped down the knot that was in his throat as he cultivated the next words he would say.

"You can't just run away," Jacob exclaimed loudly, trying to get her attention once more. He instantly regretted his stupid words as soon as they came out.  _Really? The best you could is 'you can't just run away'?_

Elizabeth croaked through ragged breaths, "Don't tell me what I can and can't do. Just go back to train and forget everything that happened tonight."

"I won't forget what happened nor do I want to," he whispered, taking a few cautious steps forward, "we  _have_  to talk to talk about this."

She shook her head and angrily said, "There is nothing to talk about!"

Elizabeth had a high temper and he usually cooled her down with a joke but he couldn't. Not this time at least.

Jacob shouted, "Why are you angry? If you recall,  _you_ kissed  _me_!"

"It was a mistake," she rolled her eyes and in a monotone asked, "happy now?"

He clenched his jaw and seriously said, "Not at all."

"What do else you want me to say?"

"Nothing," Jacob said, now standing arm's length with Elizabeth. He was surprised she hadn't backed away yet. "Let me talk."

"First I met you, I never thought I'd see the pickpocket that bested me and stole my pouch again.

Then low and behold, I saw you that same night with that  _man_ in that alley – who I'd kill again if I could – and I thought it was simply a coincidence. We met a couple times after that two but it was as the pub I knew it wasn't just luck that was bringing us together. It was fate. I suppose what I'm trying to say is that I didn't think I'd feel this strongly of you but the truth is, I do. More than partners. More than friends. And I know you ran away not because you're scared of me but for your feelings for me. But you have to be honest, love, that kiss in the fight club wasn't  _nothing_. There's something between us, Elizabeth, we've just been too blind and too stubborn to admit it. Both of us. And if you don't think that's true, look me in my eyes and tell me that right now ."

Elizabeth's frown remained on her face as she scoured every inch of Jacob's face, almost like she was looking for any lies in his confession.

Everything word that slipped through his lips were the truth and now it was all out in the open, he felt a burden off his shoulders.

Another burden remained in the next words Elizabeth was to say.

Elizabeth shut her eyes for a second before softly saying, "Jacob, I-"

Though this moment could be the most important in Jacob's life, he wasn't paying attention to

Elizabeth – he wasn't even looking at her. In any other occasion, Jacob would listen to her words like his life depended on it but ironically, he couldn't.

Because in the corner of his eye, he saw a hooded figure atop the roof, aiming a throwing knife directly at back of Elizabeth's skull.

It took him a few seconds to process what was happening but Jacob's instincts took place and he threw Elizabeth to ground with a loud thump. His body was atop of hers, shielding her from another possible throw because the first knife landed exactly where Elizabeth was.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing!" Elizabeth shouted but Jacob only pointed at the knife. He watched the realization drown in her gray eyes as her pupil dilated.

He said in a hurry, "Killer. After you." Elizabeth nodded her, taking Jacob's outstretched hand to stand up.

The two of them watched the shadowy figure watching them, frozen in place, clearly distressed they spotted him. Another knife was hastily thrown but it was a pathetic shot and landed several feet away. When the figure realized it needed a better view, it began to run away.

Jacob looked at Elizabeth, thinking the same exact thing.

In unison, they said, "Let's go," as they stood up from the ground and climbed each other climbing the walls, intending to trap the assassin.

As Jacob scaled the opposite building, Elizabeth grabbed the window sign and pulled herself up.

The adrenaline kicked in and she was ready to catch the fucker who tried to kill her. Elizabeth didn't think as she chased the killer, she didn't even look back to see where Jacob was.

Her eyes and her vision, like an eagles, was focused on the killer.

The killer was slow but she kept throwing knifes behind her so it was an obstacle Elizabeth was to dodge. If one of those knifes hit Elizabeth, she be done for. She couldn't get hit. Elizabeth chanced a glance at Jacob who was running, only a little slower. He was putting forth his best to catch the killer.

Jacob finally saw the killer trapped in a chimney so Jacob chanced the shot and threw a knife at his back, striking him squarely and hitting his leg.

A high-pitched squeal erupted from the killer. It sounded like a…girl.

Jacob immediately rushed but Elizabeth was already there, curiosity and anger dancing across her face. She kneeled beside the hooded figure who was clutching it's foot.

Elizabeth pulled the hood from the hooded figure to reveal a familiar face.

Mary Turner.

She whimpered, "Please, don't kill me, I'm begging you! Spare me, Elizabeth!"

Elizabeth was filled with rage Jacob never seen before. Her face was flushed red, her eyes were blazing and her nostrils were flared. Elizabeth took Mary by her long blonde ponytail and pulled her hair, causing Mary to look Elizabeth in the face.

"Tell me," Elizabeth whispered, "why you deserve to be spared. For all I care, I can leave you to bleed out on this rooftop or better, end you myself right now. But I can't say I'm not curious as to your attempt to murder me"

Mary's eyes widened with fear. "I was hired! By a Templar to kill you, they forced me to attempt to kill you. Please, Elizabeth, you have to believe me. You know me, Elizabeth."

"Don't worry, I believe you," Elizabeth snarled while pulling Mary's hair even further. Jacob cringed as he heard some of it being detached from her scalp. "And yes, I know, you're the bitch Will's in love with. My brother sure knows how to pick 'em."

She cried, "I never meant to hurt you, I did what I had to. I had no choice!"

Elizabeth roared, "You always have a choice!"

Jacob saw a deadly gleam in her eyes and he couldn't help but feel that wasn't only aimed at Mary.

"Elizabeth," he soothed, "I think it's best if we take her to the police. They'll handle it best."

"The police," she scoffed, "they won't do shit. I want her  _dead_."

Jacob understood why but he wasn't going to allow Elizabeth throw away her recently rekindled relationship with her brother. "Think about Will, if you kill her, he won't ever hear Mary's story and being completely, honest, who'll believe her."

Mary said, "He's right! Will won't ever forgive you for killing me."

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes and a conflict went in her head. Jacob could see it clear as day.

"You're right "we'll take her to Freddie." she sighed.

Elizabeth punched elbowed Mary in the temple swiftly, she was out cold, " _Unconscious,_ of course."


	16. Stolen Identity

**16: Stolen Identity**

Frederick Abberline, or Freddie – more commonly called by Jacob and Elizabeth – was the Chief Inspector for the Metropolitan Police and acquired quite the sarcastic tongue along with an uncanny talent of disguising himself to fit every type of persona. Age, appearance and even in some cases,  _gender_ wasn't difficult aspects Freddie would portray to receive intel as an undercover detective.

But not only was Freddie a master of disguise, he was also their connection to the London police.

There had been numerous times Freddie covered Elizabeth's  
and Jacob's tracks and aided them getting out of sticky situations they  
typically couldn't get out of as easily without Freddie's help. Freddie  
was brilliant at what he did and he was a name Jacob and Elizabeth could easily  
count on.

Yet as he stood in front of Elizabeth and Jacob in his  
flimsy night clothing at one in the morning, he didn't look too keen to help  
them with a deep scowl carved onto his face.

He rubbed his half-shut eyes and croaked in a tired voice,  
"What in the world could you two hooligans possibly need in the middle of the  
bloody night?"

"Good evening to you too, Freddie," Jacob said with a grin, trying to work his charms, "or perhaps, should I say good night instead?"

Elizabeth spoke quickly after, hoping Freddie would entirely ignore what Jacob said. She cut to the chase, she didn't want to waste any time, "There's an unconscious girl with an injured leg in that carriage right over there that tried to kill me tonight," Elizabeth stated as she pointed behind her shoulder at the horse carriage stationed in front of his house, "if it's not tended to, she'll likely bleed out and I can't have her die yet, but I also can't let her walk free."

Freddie turned his attention fully on Elizabeth. "I doubt she'd be walking at all with an injured leg," said Freddie matter-of-factly.

Elizabeth repressed a groan and said, "You understand what I meant. She tried to assassinate me, throwing knives and everything. I can't simply let her go and we have no place to question her."

"And what do you want me to do?"

Jacob piped, "Isn't it obvious? We want you to throw her in a cell."

Freddie blanked at them and asked, "You want me to take her now?"

"We wouldn't have came here during this hour if we didn't need you to," Elizabeth explained, "It really is urgent. We'll owe you one."

He said, "I don't need you two owing me anything. And even if you did, I doubt you would ever repay me.. But fine, allow me to go get dressed and I'll meet you out in five minutes."

Elizabeth placed her hand over her chest and said, "Thank you, Freddie."

As they watched Freddie vanish into his home, Jacob took this opportunity to talk to Elizabeth. Not about what her answer was to his confession– that wasn't the time for that. But how she was holding up. It was shocking to see who was underneath that mask, especially for Jacob, he could only imagine how surprised Elizabeth was.

"You holding up all right?"

She perplexed at him, as if that was a stupid question. "Of course, I'm fine, why would I not be?"

She was being oddly calm. Jacob furrowed his brows and said, "Well, for starters, your brother's girlfriend tried to practice darts on you."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and said, "I'm in no mood for your  _jokes_. This situation isn't at all funny."

"Did you think you were going to die or something?" He blanked at her. She wasn't this serious.

Elizabeth shrugged. "I could have," she said, "if you haven't pushed me out of the way. I was too distracted and unfocused, I didn't even notice she was following me. How did I not notice?" She said the last part mostly to herself, as if she was angry with herself.

Jacob softened. "Don't blame yourself. What happened at the fight club had your emotions –"

Elizabeth interrupted, "I'm not talking about the fight club!" She shut her eyes after a moment and whispered, "I'm sorry, but just leave it be. I can't about it right now."

"I understand."

There was an uncomfortable silence until until Freddie emerged from the front door. He removed his night clothing and wore his typical policing, black and blue outfit.

"Let's get moving before she regains consciousness," Freddie stated as tried to enter the carriage with Mary.

Elizabeth grasped his arm and said, "Sit at the front with Jacob. I'll be here and watch over Mary." Jacob knew there was another reason Elizabeth didn't want to sit with Jacob. She didn't want to endure the long silence again.

Freddie nodded his head and jumped atop the horse carriage beside Jacob as Elizabeth slammed the carriage door behind her.

Jacob lifted the rope and brought it down, the horse driving into a gallop towards the police station.

/

When Jacob, Elizabeth and Freddie arrived at the police station, there were a few policemen still present but they were fast asleep, unhearing of when they entered and drooled on their desks instead. Jacob carried the unconscious Mary in his arms while Freddie was navigating them to a cell suitable for her. Elizabeth was trailing behind, which Jacob found odd since she always took the lead.

While following Freddie through the corridors, Jacob said, "I've been stuck in one of these dingy cells once but good old Freddie bailed me out. Thanks again, friend."

Freddie looked over his shoulder and glared at Jacob. "It seems bailing you and your friend has become my primary occupation."

Elizabeth kept quiet, not listening to their conversation as she took short strides and kept her eyes stationed on Mary. She was becoming weary of the girl since she was beginning to stir in her sleep, possibly waking up soon. Elizabeth should have hit her harder. But perhaps that would kill her.

_Good, that's what I want._

No, that wasn't good, Elizabeth reminded herself she needed more information out of her before she died. Her death would be useless otherwise. Elizabeth would use Mary to her fullest and dispose of her when she was finished. After all, though Mary said she had no choice, Elizabeth had no mercy either.

"Here we are," Freddie announced as they entered a private room with a cell in the corner. He shuffled in the nearby desk and found a key and opening the cell door. "Just place the girl in there. I believe she is beginning to wake soon too."

Jacob nodded and gently placed Mary on the floor. Elizabeth wished he dropped her.

Jacob was about to lock the cell door behind him but Elizabeth stopped him.

"Wait," she said, "I need to dispose of her remaining weapons. She doesn't have a good arm but I can't give her the chance of having a knife." Elizabeth also wanted to find anything else suspicious on her that would give her clues about the motive.

Freddie said, "Smart. And while you do that, I'm going to search for her file. See what I can scrummage about her."

"Anything is good to know," Elizabeth replied, taking the key from in the process. "I want to know who this girl really is."

Squatting beside the knocked out Mary, Elizabeth rummaged through her clothing for any weapons in the process. She wanted to see what she was hiding up her sleeve, literally. As Elizabeth dug through her pockets, she found only seven knifes left so she checked again, this time searching through her denim pants.

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow as she felt a cold metal circular object in her pocket. As she took it out, the object was all too familiar.

It was the pocketwatch without the hands left on Papa's dead body when he was murdered. The death token.

She gave the token to Will to try to decipher but he failed so when Elizabeth tried to do it herself, her brother informed her it was missing. They got in a huge argument but it seemed, after all, Elizabeth was right.

Unless it was an exact copy which Elizabeth doubted, one thing was possible; Mary took the pocketwatch.

She gasped while grasping the watch from it's chain. "I fucking knew it."

Jacob stood from his seat, paying attention again and asked while squinting his eyes, "What is that? Wait, is that it – is that the  _pocketwatch?"_

Nodding her head, Elizabeth gritted her teeth and said, "I always knew she had more faces than she put on. But I still don't understand why. Why is she messing with my family?"

"Perhaps she's insane."

"Even pysho's have motives for doing something. Twisted reasons but still reasons. I need to know hers," Elizabeth trailed off while dropping Mary's daggers on the desk and grabbed a roll of tissue.

Jacob raised a brow and asked, "What are you doing?"

She replied, "I'm going to get my answers." Elizabeth shut the cell door behind her and squatted beside Mary. "Don't try to stop me."

In a split second, Elizabeth firmly grasped the dagger embedded in Mary's leg and twisted it, causing a tear of flesh to be heard. Jacob cringed but didn't ask Elizabeth what she was doing. He knew. And if he asked questions, she would only get angrier.

Elizabeth used both hands to separate the knife from the leg.

Mary screamed in pain and clutched her leg, not even noticing who was in front of her. The most dangerous person in the world right now. Elizabeth Whittock when she was angry.

Elizabeth blinked at the crying Mary with no emotion on her face. Once, then twice. Her expression was blank, neutral but all the more menacing.

"Are you done now?"

Mary attempted to take hold of Elizabeth's hands but she swatted them away like they were pesky flies. She begged, "Have mercy, please, help me. This pain is too much!"

Elizabeth clenched her jaw and gritted her teeth as she stared at Mary. "Tell me what I wish to know first and we'll see about attending that wound of yours. You way want to be quick as well, you've lost quite a bit of blood already."

Mary glared at Elizabeth and muttered a curse under her breath. Elizabeth didn't like that.

She twisted the knife again, this time plunging it deeper in the process.

Mary grunted in pain and sobbed uncontrollably and muttered, "Stop, stop, stop." It made Jacob feel uneasy and nasty, a burp coming up from his stomach.

Jacob stood in front of the bars and tried to reason. "Elizabeth, I think that's enough. She's no use to you if she's dead." In reality, Jacob wanted Elizabeth to stop hurting Mary. Because hurting Mary was hurting Elizabeth deep down too.

Elizabeth didn't respond to what Jacob said but indeed, did stop twisting the knife and instead, held up the pocketwatch. "You stole this from Will, correct?"

"Among other things," she weakly mumbled, "but yes, correct."

"You said you had 'no choice' other than to kill me. Why try to kill me? Were you hired by someone?"

"A Templar."

"What does a Templar want with her?" Jacob asked, "Why not go specifically after me?"

"I don't know, she said something about you could cause problems and so on." Elizabeth noticed the word, 'she'. It was a 'she' that hired Mary to kill her. Who was 'she' anyway?

Elizabeth asked, "Are you a Templar yourself?"

A short silence continued after before a shaky, "No," came out.

Jacob suddenly became and alert and said, "She's lying. She's a Templar, I can see it on her face."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, "Changed your mind about killing her, Jacob?"

"No, I just don't like Templars. In case you haven't noticed, I'm an Assassin."

"Sure you are," Elizabeth said.

Jacob furrowed his brow. "What is that supposed to mean? Sure you are?"

"This isn't the time," she exclaimed and turned her attention back to the prisoner. "Let me try again and be honest, because I'll know. Are you or are you not a Templar?"

Mary gulped and muttered, "Yes, I'm apart of the Templar order. By blood."

"By blood? Who are you related to?"

"My grandfather was a Templar, and so was my uncle before he died."

Jacob asked, "Who was your uncle?"

"Richard Turner."

"I've never heard of him. Sure he exists?"

Mary piped up in defense, "I'm not lying, I swear it on my life! He died at 38 by the hands of an Assassin," she said the last word like venom.

Jacob shut his eyes and said in Elizabeth's ear, "I think I believe her, I don't really understood why but I have a feeling she is telling the truth."

Elizabeth stared blamelessly at Mary and said to Jacob, "Coming from a man who trusts everyone."

"Perhaps you shouldn't say it like it's bad a thing."

Elizabeth raised a brow, "It is, in my books. Can we, just, focus on what matters here?"

"After you," he snarked.

Elizabeth asked Mary, "Give me the name of the Templar who hired you."

"I c-can't-"

Suddenly, a tall figure emerged from the doorstep with a glare on her face.

"How did I know you two would be behind this?" Florence Nightingale said while crossing the room with her arms placed on her hips.

Elizabeth's eyes widened, "Florence? What are you doing here?"

"I asked her to tend to Mary's wound," Freddie explained as he came in the room also with a folder in his hand. Elizabeth wondered what type of information he was able to gather on Mary. She was eager to know what it was.

Florence shot Elizabeth a pointed look and said, "Step aside and allow me to treat the poor girl."

"She's no poor girl, she's a criminal," Elizabeth scoffed but still allowed Florence to pass through the cell doors.

"Criminal or not, no one deserves to die from blood loss. It's inhumane." Elizabeth didn't know what to think of this but didn't reply.

Jacob asked, "So, you, want us to leave then?"

"That would be best, yes, after I tend to her wounds, she'll be put to rest. You can question her tomorrow, it's not as if she's going anywhere." Because of her leg, and because of her cell.

Elizabeth exclaimed, "I'm not done asking her questions!"

Florence rolled her eyes and said, "As I said previously, come back in the morning. Perhaps she'll answer more of your questions then."

Elizabeth looked at Freddie for support but he only shrugged his shoulders and said, "The woman spoke. Come back tomorrow, Elizabeth. It's awfully late anyways."

"This is bullshit."

Jacob started, "Elizabeth-"

"Don't even try it, Jacob!" She wagged her finger angrily at him. Elizabeth turned to Freddie, "Before I leave, tell me if you found anything on her."

Freddie nodded and said, "It's best if we discuss this outside." Elizabeth and Jacob followed Freddie outside the door and he turned to them.

"Tell it straight," Jacob insisted.

Freddie sighed and ran his fingers through his graying hair. He looked bewildered.

"I found Mary Turner's report and I was to say the least, surprised at the results," he opened the folder and handed them the papers. Elizabeth took them first and Jacob peered at them over her shoulders. "Mary Turner was a 41 year old maid that died of a heart attack on July 14th. She had no children and was a widow. And as you can likely guess now, the Mary Turner locked up in there is not the Mary Turner in the files."

Elizabeth asked, "Are you sure there isn't another file? Mary Turner seems like a pretty common name."

Freddie shook his head. "I'm positive, I checked, twice, thrice even and there was only one in all of London."

Jacob said, "Then that means, she stole her identity."

"Could you find her real identity then?"

"No, technically, she does not exist. I will continue to search for it however, and if I do manage to find it, I will notify you immediately. I have to go now, so, goodnight you two."

Elizabeth genuinely said, "Thank you and farewell, Freddie."

"Night," Jacob said before Freddie walked off down the hallway. Elizabeth almost didn't want him to leave, realizing she was left alone with Jacob since…

Jacob mindlessly muttered, "She must have covered herself up, she'd probably undercover and took another identity."

Elizabeth didn't respond but instead, walked towards the exit of the police station. Jacob was behind her and followed her out to the London sky and asked, "Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth stopped walking and whirled around to face Jacob. She so badly didn't want to look at him but she had no choice. She said, "I suppose you want your answer now."


	17. Desperate Times

**17: Desperate Times**

Despite all of the chaos that occurred tonight, Elizabeth couldn't look past Jacob's confession about his love for her. She swore Mary trying to murder her was more expected than what Jacob revealed to Elizabeth. She knew, deep down, that her relationship with Jacob was always less than professional and vice versa but hearing it made it all the more real.

It was her who kissed him. But it was him who followed her. Like he always would.

Which was what made her decision so hard to make. Because despite her own personal feelings towards Jacob, Elizabeth knew that she could only respond one way and that way only.

The realization that dawned upon Jacob's face was instant and a disbelieving smile appeared on his face. He began, "No. You've had a bizarre night already. It can wait, really, love."

Elizabeth winced at the last word. She didn't want to be called that now, right before what she was going to do.

"You said now," she said, trying to convey little emotion. She was succeeding. "It's now."

Jacob started, "Your emotions are running high and it can't be easy to – "

"I can't be with you."

In that moment, Elizabeth saw the hurt on Jacob's evident face. He was silent, not knowing what to say. She shut her eyes and balled her fists.

As if what she said prior wasn't bad enough alone, Elizabeth fueled the fire by adding, "I can't lie and say there aren't feelings because there are. I love you."

In the quietest voice Elizabeth had never heard him use, Jacob said, "Then why're you doing this?"

"I don't understand what you want from me. To be your partner? Or your lover? I can't- not now. Perhaps after I've finished avenging my father and killed Forge but as for now, I won't allow these  _feelings_ ruin my mission. If we were together, it would only complicate things and ruin everything we have worked so hard for. Together – as partners."

He scoffed, "Don't give me that bullshit about us ruining things. You're scared, that's the only thing holding you back."

"I'm not scared! I'm cautious! There's a difference," she took a deep breath and put a finger on the bridge of her nose, "see, this is why we can't be together and be partners, we already fight about everything. We shouldn't complicate things to make matters worse."

"Well, that's us, Elizabeth! We argue, it's how we got to know each other, wasn't it? How would we find feelings for each other if we hadn't?"

True, undeniably true. Not that she could admit it.

"If you think I will change my mind, you're awfully wrong."

Jacob clenched his jaw and said, "Fine, if that's what you want." He was relenting, not wanting to lose her forever.

"It is."

"What of our partnership? We can't go on with our lives and pretend nothing happened."

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at him and said, "Then consider this partnership over. If you really cannot keep things between us professional, there is no point in us working together anymore."

Jacob chuckled, "You're kidding."

"I'm not."

"Fine! Then no partnership! What will you do then?"

"Far more than what I was able to accomplish with you by my side," she said, "I'll pack my things tonight and be gone by dawn."

"You, you," he sputtered but stopped, "All right then. Leave."

It was an awkward silence as the broken-up duo walked back to the train.

Elizabeth in the lead.

Jacob several steps behind her.

Elizabeth kept telling herself this felt right even if it wasn't true.

/

When Elizabeth hopped on the train, she rushed towards her quarters. She needed to separate herself as far from Jacob as possible at the moment. Seeing his face, hearing his voice - it was just all too much.

As she slammed the door behind her, a few bottles of whiskey fell to the floor. They were all empty, regrettably so since she needed a drink now more than ever.

Elizabeth peeped through her window while the train stopped at Whitechapel station and saw Jacob making his way into the train. She was looking out the window too when the train sped into Whitechapel station in a few short minutes.

Following the not so subtle door slam, Jacob exited the train and Elizabeth could feel the heat rush to her face. Anger, she supposed it was. Yet it was so hypocritical for her to feel at that moment.

Yet Elizabeth couldn't help but remember there was only one reason males venture off to Whitechapel at midnight.

But Elizabeth didn't want to dwell on Jacob anymore, she needed to get rid of the memory that is Jacob Frye out of her head for now, forever.

She busied herself in packing.

She started with her clothing which she acquired little of since she wore the same outfit everyday. It was an outfit Jacob helped pay for, among other things.

It was almost laughable how many things Jacob payed for, things Elizabeth would never be able to afford. She was going to lose it all but she didn't care for these things anyways. Nevertheless, she was going to pay him back.

After she stuffed her clothes in a bag, Elizabeth walked to the desk where she picked up a quilt and began to write a note. It stated;

_It's not everything but it's all I have._

_I'll pay you back someday, I promise._ And after a second thought, she added,

_Thank you for everything._

Because though she would never admit it, Elizabeth was thankful for all the help he gave to Elizabeth. She was forever grateful but still couldn't find herself to stay.

As Elizabeth continued to pack, the clock in the corner ticked to 1 am and she felt herself amidst tidying, her eyes closing by themselves and the strangest dream fell upon her.

/

_There was a bird soaring through the sunny cloudless sky, a stone beneath her feet and a knife perched on a random table in the middle of a field of grass._

_The air smelled nothing like London's smog and smoke. The scent was fresh with hints of citrus and flowers._

_Elizabeth was wearing something she's never worn before; a dress. She was standing at the table, watching the bird closely, following it with her eyes. She didn't understand why but she felt as if she looked away, something terrible was to occur. So she stared, and stared, and stared._

_The bird flew more closer into view and revealed itself as an eagle._

_The eagle landed on the table and dropped a letter on it with a red stamp on it._

_Elizabeth cautiously petted the eagle before taking hold of the letter. The only words on the envelope was addressed to 'my genesis'._

_Was this addressed to her?_

_Even if it wasn't, it didn't matter because Elizabeth was mid-tear._

_As she opened the letter, she was shocked to see a black and white picture of a women. She was blonde, blue-eyed with soft-spoken features. She looked familiar._

_Elizabeth turned the picture over, in hopes of finding a name and she was successful. The back of the picture read the name, 'Rose'._

_Elizabeth placed the picture back onto the table and picked up the dull knife. It was a kitchen knife, not meant to do any real damage._

_But as she did, she saw a figure running towards her._

_It was her father, a younger version of him with no wrinkles or illness. He was very handsome._

_He was yelling at her, "Throw the stone at the bird!"_

_Elizabeth did as told, finding herself picking up the stone and aiming for the bird. She aimed and missed and instead it fell and hit her father's head. He fell to the ground and Elizabeth began to murmur apologizes as she ran towards him._

" _Beware of the woman with two names," he gasped before his head lolled to the side, his eyes ling._

_He was dead._

_Elizabeth cried, not even realizing who the man was and while she gasped, she felt the knife she dropped to throw the stone at the bird stab into her back, causing immense pain to shoot through her back and spine._

_She fell to the ground and as she looked up to see the culprit, her eyes shut, only catching a glimpse of the woman in the picture._

_Rose, the name read in red ink._

_/_

The rays of morning sunshine evaded the sheer curtains and fell directly on Elizabeth's eyes, causing the sleeping girl to stir amidst dream. Her eyes drifted open and she was tired but still awake, pulling herself to sit up while rubbing her eyes

.

Elizabeth remembered her dream and couldn't get it out of her mind. It was rather odd and random, as dreams should be but there was also something about it that made Elizabeth feel uneasy. Perhaps it was because there was the name, 'Rose', in her dream with a face and body to match.

Who was this woman and why was she in her dream? Surely, Elizabeth had never met this woman before or even see her but why was she so present and why did she end up  _killing_ Elizabeth?

But maybe it was just a dream. Sometimes dreams are only dreams and could mean nothing. Elizabeth really hoped it was that; her dream felt so real and she didn't wish to relieve it, especially the dying part.

"Bloody hell," she muttered while getting off the floor and looking out the window and realizing it was morning.

She couldn't believe she slept on the train; she was supposed to leave already. Hopefully Jacob hadn't arrived yet, she wasn't in the mood to have a run-in with him. She was scared of what Jacob's words were going to be and her actions resulting them.

Elizabeth grabbed her bag by the strap and swung it over her shoulder and roamed to the cart door, sparing one last look at the place she called home. Her safe place, her territory. It was new for her and she was to lose it.

_It has to be done._

She opened the door, leaving the solitude and entered the main cart where the couch was, the letters with a desk and the Assassination map.

The face, as always, in the middle was Timothy Forge with his accomplice and left-hand, Nicholas Till right beneath him. The Templars beside them were crossed red, already being taken care of. But there was still other Templars not added to the board, stronger ones.

Simply looking at the board, at Forge's face made Elizabeth angry. She wanted to wrap her fingers around his throat and squeeze but at the same time, she wanted her answers and she also knew Forge was the only person to give her that. It was a feeling Elizabeth couldn't shake and couldn't receive. Maybe she finally could soon.

Without Jacob.

Like she should have done before.

Sighing, she looked away from the map and stood at the window, patiently awaiting for the train to stop at Whitechapel station, where she could get off and go to Will's flat.

Suddenly, heavy footsteps came from the bar cart and Elizabeth's heart skipped beats as she stared at the entrance way. She knew who it was just by the way he walked.

Jacob wore an unbuttoned shirt, revealing his chest hair and the shilling necklace he regularly wore. His pants were ruffled and his hair was a mess, pointing in every direction possible.

Elizabeth wondered what made him to become like this but she already knew the answer.

She could smell the strong scent of ale on him a few feet away.

He flatly said, "I thought you left already." It wasn't condescending, it was a fact.

"I fell asleep last night and I just woke up a few minutes ago," she said, "but I'll be gone at the next stop."

"You're  _aren't_ really leaving, are you?"

She sighed, "It's for the best, both of us. We have personal missions we need to complete and yes, before when we worked together everything was fine. But things will change after feelings become involved. We can't allow these feelings to ruin us and our goals."

Jacob scoffed, "You sound just like Evie."

"Good! Evie seems like an intelligent and focused woman."

"Well, she still ended up dating her partner while in a mission."

Elizabeth's brow wavered as she looked at Jacob with vulnerability, "What do you want from me?"

Jacob walked towards her, Elizabeth now backed into the wall as Jacob stood close. She could touch him if she wanted.

"I want you to stay. Partner or not, I need you," he desperately said.

Elizabeth's lips wavered as she felt her heart skip beats and clench.

She stuttered, "I-I can't-"

"Do you want me to beg. I'll get on my fucking knees right now if you want," he said, taking hold of Elizabeth's hands. She didn't shake them away but her body wanted to.

She exclaimed, "Stop it! Jacob, my decision is final. I'm sorry."

"Without you, I have no one, nothing. My sister left me with her fiancée for India without another thought. I was alone, until I met you."

"Evie's coming back next week," she said. She felt stupid for saying it but she had no idea what else to say. He was pouring his heart out and it took so much strength for Elizabeth to not fall into it.

He said, "Don't remind me. She'll be raging at the way I've been handling London."

"I distracted you."

"No, you didn't. You helped me without knowing it. You kept me on track, Elizabeth, you always do."

"Stop."

"I don't want you to go."

He tried again, "Will I see you again?"

She smally smiled, "London's a big city but it isn't huge. I doubt a run-in is impossible."

"Okay," he whispered, "I see."

"I have to go now, if I don't want to miss the stop," she said in a quiet voice, "goodbye, Jacob."

Jacob sadly chuckled, "I hate goodbyes."

"I already said it."

"I know," he said after a silence, "goodbye, Elizabeth."

With that, Elizabeth stared at Jacob for a while before she cleared her throat and nodded while making her way out the train she became ever so accustomed to, while trying to overcome the idea that she may never step foot on it once again.


	18. Brother

 

* * *

 

**PART THREE**

_Eye for an Eye_

* * *

**18: Brother**

Will was becoming accustomed to his girlfriend's recent absences. For a reason he was unaware of, Mary was leaving the flat at the crack of dawn and coming back  _exactly_  at midnight. It was odd how consistent her timing always was. Sometimes she wouldn't even bother coming home at all – last night, for example.

She left in the morning without a word and still hadn't arrived yet.

As any normal boyfriend would, Will asked Mary multiple times where she was running off to but she constantly gave him the vague answer, 'Rook duty'. He accepted this accuse at first but he grew more suspicious as her disappearing's became more frequent. He asked more questions but she wouldn't change her answer. It was the same thing, every single day.

Even Oliver noticed her absence.

What was Will to think? He knew she was lying – but why? Was she cheating? She was awfully gone a long time but cheating was far-fetched, even considering the situation. He just had a feeling she was up to something, something she was hiding.

He was patiently awaiting her word, he was going to ask her today, he vowed to.

Which was why when a knock came at the door, Will rushed to it, hoping to see Mary on the other side. He was mistaken, for Elizabeth stood in front of him with bags in her arms and a neutral look on her face.

Will said, "Good morning, Elizabeth?" but it sounded more like a question. "What happened to your face?" he asked looking at the cut across her cheek.

She pitifully laughed, "You wouldn't believe me if I told you. Is Oliver home?"

"No, he left for school already. Why, did you come here for him?"

She shook her head. "I came here for you. I need to tell you something but I'm afraid you'll lose your head."

"Whatever it is, it's probably not as bad as you think it is," Will said while putting a finger on his chin, "just tell me. I promise I won't go mad."

She put her hands on her hips and quickly said, "Well, there's no better way to say this but your girlfriend tried to kill me and she's in jail right now."

Huh?

Will's jaw dropped and his eyes widened as he took in his sister's words. "What do you mean 'she tried to kill you'. Is this some sort of joke?"

Elizabeth exclaimed, "I wouldn't lie about something like this. I'm telling the truth, I swear it on my life. Tell me, was Mary home last night or returned?"

"She didn't," he drawled, "but I really ca-can't believe she'd  _try to murder you_. How?"

So Elizabeth told him the entire story of leaving the fight club, the shadowy figure on the rooftop, Jacob and her chasing her and catching her. She told him about taking Mary to the police station where they found a pocket watch and revealed herself to be a Templar, hired by another Templar to kill Elizabeth.

Will stared at the ground. "I can't believe this. She can't be a Templar, she simply can't be!"

Elizabeth clenched her teeth and said, "Shall we take a trip to the station now then, so you can ask her yourself." He could tell Elizabeth was angry he wasn't believing every word she was spitting but, how could he? Yes, Mary was acting strange lately but this story…it was absurd, impossible to believe. He was going to need the words actually come from Mary's lips to believe it, otherwise he would still have questions.

Perhaps he hoped it wasn't true either. He wished Mary wouldn't do it but really at this point, he didn't know what she was truly capable of.

So Will said, "Let's get going," and the pair left to the police station.

/

The police station was hustle and bustle that morning, with the officers in a frantic state, whispering among themselves.

Will immediately noticed that, and found it quite odd. He had never been to the police station before but he was pretty sure it wasn't supposed to be this busy and filled with tension.

"What's going on?"

Elizabeth looked just as confused. "I've not the foggiest. I'll ask Freddie, he's right over there." She pointed at the police officer with a mustache and brown hair. He hadn't noticed Elizabeth waved at him, instead talking with another woman, dressed as a nurse.

They approached them, and they looked Elizabeth with bewildered looks. Elizabeth didn't even bother introducing Will to the two and instead frantically asked them, "What is the matter?"

Freddie, Will believed his name was, shifted his eyes and after a few moments of silence he said, "Mary Turner escaped the jail last night."

So she was at the jail.

She really was arrested.

Elizabeth bellowed, "Excuse me?"

"After I tended to her wounds, Freddie was there to lock her up, which he did, I can fully vouch for him on that. She escaped after we left," the nurse said in a sorry tone.

Freddie replied, "I highly doubt it was a one-woman job. At least ten officers were killed on watch last night at the station. That woman couldn't do it herself, she had help."

Elizabeth was unusually quiet as she waited for more explanation. She looked like she couldn't believe what she was hearing.

She only said in a quiet voice, "Show me the scene."

They did, toured her and Will around the police station.

Will couldn't believe what happened.

If Mary did do this, how was she able to do it? It made Will wonder who the hell was 'Mary Turner'? Because her face now was wanted, dead or alive.

/

After touring the crime scene, Freddie assured Elizabeth and Will if he heard anything regarding Mary's appearance, he would notify them at once. Elizabeth said her thanks but she still remained quiet during the entire process. It was a good idea too, because she was pissed off and she didn't want to say anything stupid, as she usually does when she was angry. That was why, when Will asked questions, was worried and didn't believe, Elizabeth never intervened and instead remained at a calm state of mind.

But goddamnit, she was so angry.

How could she escape? How much of a strong person was able to escape while police officers were still present? It sounded straight out of novel, so absurd and unrealistic, Elizabeth was flabbergasted.

Yet one thing was looming over her head. She realized if this happened, she would need to quicken her moves because with Mary on the loose once again, she may try to kill her or even worse, her brothers again. Although finding Mary wasn't her main concern, killing Forge was, but she wasn't going to forget about the evil girlfriend of her brother.

As for her brother, William, well, he wasn't taking everything too well. Though he listened to every word Elizabeth, Freddie and Florence told him, there was still a look on his face that screamed, 'I don't believe you'. She understood why. Mary was his girlfriend, it would be difficult for anyone to stomach that.

But with Will on the line between believing and non-believing, Elizabeth knew she had to finally come clean about everything she found.

It was time to tell her brothers about Papa's lineage.

She knew they wouldn't take it pleasantly; they would even be angry she hadn't told them. In fact, she kept this from them for about eight months now.

She just wished they wouldn't be too angry or worse, think she was lying.

"We need to pick Oliver up from Dame School," Elizabeth said as she took the reins of the horse carriage, "I need to talk to the two of you."

Taking passenger, Will mindlessly asked, "About?"

"I have to tell you and Oliver at the same time."

Will and Elizabeth drove through Whitechapel in silence, not the comfortable type but one filled with tension. She tried to ignore it, but Will was being standoffish and it was setting her off guard.

"Elizabeth?" Oliver said with confusion as he saw the siblings as he exited the school, "What are you two doing here?"

Elizabeth said in a matter-of-factly voice, "Here to pick you up. W-we, need to talk. Climb on board, we'll go to a bar or something."

William looked at Elizabeth with shock, "What is this all about, Elizabeth? It seems rather serious."

"It is, now come on, let's get moving."

/

The Thistle & Crown, Whitechapel's infamous pub was scarce during the afternoon. A hostess noticed them right away and lead them to a booth which would benefit the private conversation they were going to have.

As Will sat across of Elizabeth, he asked, "Will you tell me what's in that box or not?"

Elizabeth carried Papa's Assassin chest, the one Jacob kept, and Elizabeth opened. Will didn't recognize the Assassin symbol – how would he? Elizabeth finally would show them the contents of it.

"Instead of me just telling you what's inside," she muttered while pushing the box towards her brothers, "just take a look yourself. Open it."

Will raised a thick brow at her and gently pulled the box closer and lipped the name on the front,  _Whittock._ He was visibly confused as he lifted the wooden lid. Oliver was at his right, trying to sneak a peak as well but Will kept it close to himself while he picked up the letter and began to read.

Elizabeth remembered the letter; it was the one where Papa admitted the truth.

Will's face went through various looks. From confusion, to shock to anger as he looked at Elizabeth while shaking his head, staring deep into her eyes. Elizabeth looked at the box instead. She couldn't find herself looking at them, she felt too guilty about keeping this secret. A secret her brothers had the right to know but she selfishly kept it to herself because…

Why did she keep it to herself? What made her do such a thing?

Oliver piped from the sidelines, "I wish to read it as well!"

Will shoved the letter at him and took a look at the remaining items in the box, finally ripping his blue eyes from Elizabeth's. He was silent – was that a good thing? – as he took Papa's clothing out of the chest.

Elizabeth showed him the hidden blades in her shirt and said, "These were in the chest too." Elizabeth knew Will would think badly of her taking them for herself but she had to tell him exactly what was in the chest.

"…A Master Assassin," Oliver said, "Isn't that what Mr. Frye is? Papa was one too?! That's brill!"

But surprisingly Will and Elizabeth ignored him and Will turned to her and questioned, "Where did you find this?"

"J-Jacob," his name was hard for Elizabeth to say, "had it. He gave it to me immediately when he found I was a Whittock."

Will pinched the bridge of his nose and spurred a line of questions, "Why did he have it? Was it locked? Did Papa directly give it to the Assassin's?"

"His sister found it in a Westminster home; I think it was our old house. And yes, it was locked and I unlocked with my locket Papa gave me. You remember it don't you?"

"The key was hidden in there all that time?"

"Indeed, I had no idea," she added, "Papa was a crafty man."

Will spat, "He was also a liar."

Elizabeth started "Will, he –"

"It makes sense you're defending him, you're just like him. Tell me, dear sister, how long have you known about this chest?"

Elizabeth gulped and said, "Long enough."

Will dryly chuckled and rolled his eyes. "Nice answer."

"Listen, I'm sorry I didn't tell you! But I just, I don't know, I was being foolish. Forgive me, brother."

Will said, "This isn't just something small, Lizzie, this is huge and you didn't tell me. What gave you a change of heart to even tell us anyways?"

Oliver said, "I have to agree with Will. Why did you lie to us."

"I-I didn't  _lie_."

Will leaned forward, "But you kept the truth which is just as worse."

"What else do you want me to say? I made a mistake!"

"I can't believe it," he said.

Elizabeth said, "What? Me lying or Papa's truth?"

" _Both_ , but I'm more shocked of Papa. A bloody Master Assassin. Who would have though poor, frail Frank Whittock was a powerful killer."

Elizabeth said, "Now do you see why I want to get Forge so bad. He has done so much terrible things to Papa, betrayed him, a Templar and he even  _killed_ him."

"I do see," Will said in understanding.

Oliver piped, "Wait, I'm confused, who is Forge?"

Elizabeth explained, "He's the Grand Master Templar, he was Papa's former business partner for Whittock & Forge Steel. He tricked Papa into thinking he was an Assassin like himself but he was really a Templar, he betrayed him and threatened him out of his rich. That's why I've been trying to kill him and avenge Papa"

"Why should you? Papa lied and this happened ever so long ago. Perhaps Papa did something to deserve it."

Elizabeth's jaw dropped, "How dare you say that about your own father. He was a good man, he always was. You never understood him like I did."

"How can I fucking understand a man who was pretending to be somebody else!"

Elizabeth placed her hands in her head in frustration. She didn't want to argue with him anymore and he felt the same.

She said after a little of silence to calm the tension down, "Even if you don't want to help me kill Forge, you still will have a part in all this because of Mary. Your Templar girlfriend. And I know, if you won't fight for Papa, you will fight for her. Won't you?"

"I think there's more to the story than what's on display."

"And I agree with you. I know Mary had a motive I still don't what is was. And her escape? She must've been really scared of what the police were going to find about her if she went to those lengths."

Oliver asked, "Wait, what happened to Mary?"

Elizabeth answered him while directly staring at Will, "She tried to kill me last night. Oh, and she's a Templar. Anyways, I took her to jail last night. She escaped, leaving a trail of bodies behind her."

"What! No way! She wasn't home last night, indeed, I saw her placing knifes on her belt. I didn't know they were for you."

"Yes, well, neither did I."

"Why was she trying to kill you?" Oliver asked with fear in his eyes.

Elizabeth turned to Oliver and said, "That's a really good question I asked too."

"If she did try to kill you, Elizabeth, I need to hear her reasoning herself. I'm being honest, I hate what she did but I still…love her." Of course he did.

Elizabeth said, "I wouldn't expect anything else." And it was true. In a perfect world, Will would drop Mary like a ball and side with Elizabeth immediately but she lived in the  _real_ world and in the real world, people were uncaring and had their own agendas. Elizabeth knew this better than anyone. "Don't worry, I'm not going to take this as a betrayal but I want you to know, if I do see Mary again, I'm not going to hold back like I did last night."

He clenched his jaw. "If your life's on the line, you have to do what you have to do. Right?"

"Right," she firmly responded. "Advice; find her… _before_  I do."

"That's the plan. So, what are you going to do? Go back to Jacob and finally get Forge?"

Elizabeth cringed when she heard his name. "No, I, I actually disbanded our partnership. We just weren't moving in the same direction anymore."

"That's a shame," Will said, but it sounded sarcastic, "where will you stay then?"

Elizabeth said, "I was hoping to spend a few nights at your flat. If that's all right with you?"

"Of course, there's extra room,  _since Mary's gone_." He glared at Elizabeth, to which she matched.

This was going to be a hell, living with him.

Elizabeth said, "Thanks,  _brother."_

Oliver jumped in their conversation, "Lizzie is trying to avenge Papa and Will is trying to find Mary. Then what am I supposed to do?"

Elizabeth gave him a bewildered look and said, "You don't need to be doing anything. You're only a child, this business isn't meant for someone of your age."

"But I'm more than capable of helping! Just give me a job to do and I'll do it."

Will said, "Wait, there actually is something you could help  _me_ with. Ask Clara and her orphans to keep an eye out for Mary, and if they see her notify me quickly, all right?"

"I'll ask her first thing tomorrow!"

Will smiled. "Thanks kiddo."

Elizabeth witnessed this heart-warming moment between brothers, but it made her feel cold instead. She didn't have time for this.

She said, "Then we all have jobs to do, Whittock's. Let's finish what we started, shall we?"


	19. Sister

**19: Sister**

Drowning his sorrows wasn't working for Jacob Frye.

Usually, after a few bottles of whisky, he was wild and reckless without a care in the world. Jacob was longing to feel that way ever since Elizabeth left but all this alcohol wasn't causing him to forget his problems. In anything, drunk heartbroken Jacob couldn't get her out of his head.

Fucking hell.

With every sip, came back a memory of her face and even though it was painful. His desire to drink more and more grew stronger and he found himself refilling his cup after cup before passing out. It was a shitty cycle Jacob couldn't fall out of. He needed a pinch, a shake, a slap to snap him out of it.

And ironically, the only person who could cause him to get out of this rut is the same reason he was in it the first place.

_Look at what you've done to me, Elizabeth Whittock._ Little did she know the power she had over him and how her absence was breaking him apart.

Just the name brought back images of her face; images that never left his head since the day they met. Her sharp features that were still soft to the touch, her piercing gray eyes, the way a dimple appeared on her cheek when she smirked. She wasn't beautiful but outer beauty wasn't what he was looking for.

She was special and the first woman he had such strong feelings for.

He was in love with her.

Which was why losing her was the hardest thing he was through. And now that she was gone, Jacob feelings for her deepened because it felt like he let her get away. He wanted her back, her company, her friendship.

And he knew she was in love with him too, but something was stopping her.

She was stubborn, self-seeking and mean at times but he thought she was perfect. Perfect not in a way she was seeking perfection in everything like Evie, but perfect in a way that she was Elizabeth and Elizabeth was  _perfect to him._

"Ugh,  _Evie,_ " Jacob groaned when he realized that his twin sister was coming back to London soon.

Well, she wasn't going to be happy with how Jacob was handling things.

She asked for three things before she left for India with Greenie as a Master Assassin;

Keep the Piece of Eden hidden.

Recruit Apprentices to join the Brotherhood.

Protect London from the Templars.

Jacob only did one of those things and it was only because Evie already did it for him; the Piece of Eden was hidden.

He had to admit – he was a lousy Master Assassin.

He had recruited exactly zero assassin's. He was basically, along with a few others, the only Assassin's in London.

And he couldn't even protect London from Templars. He made a fucking truce with them.

_Evie was going to kill him._

Did Jacob even deserve to be Master Assassin – let alone an Assassin?

He was doubting himself, in more ways than one. He was unfit to be an Assassin. He was unfit to be a man.

Perhaps that was why Elizabeth left.

/

"Where are you going? It's the break of dawn." Will asked with half-shut eyes as Elizabeth shuffled out of their bed which had an appropriate barrier of pillows between them.

Sleeping beside Will was her new sleeping arrangement after leaving Jacob's train six days ago. It felt odd to her – not because she was sharing a bed with her brother, but because she was sleeping in Mary's typical spot. Her bed belonged to the woman who tried to kill her. Elizabeth couldn't help but feel uncomfortable.

Stretching her feet off the bed, Elizabeth yawned, "I have to see someone and the only time they're able to talk is in the morning."

It was true, Elizabeth tried to see Vanessa – the White Doe – but she'd never give her the time of day. She was a busy woman; they didn't call her the best whore in London for nothing.

"Who're you seeing?" he asked, "does he have to do with what you told me about killing that 'Till' man?"

She nodded. "It's a  _she_ , a prostitute actually, and yes, Till is one of her clients. She takes a bit of bribing but with enough money, she'll be talking in no time."

"Where does this 'bribing money' come from?"

Elizabeth was taken aback by his question because she only now realized, she had no money left since she gave it all back to Jacob. Previously, he would give her anything she wanted, especially money-wise, without another thought. He always had so much of it, it never seemed like a big deal to her.

But without Jacob, Elizabeth thought,  _I'm penniless._

"I-I have to go," she muttered while grabbing her cloak

"That's a rather  _dark_ cloak for such a sunny day," Will said with a small frown, knowing exactly what she was planning to use the cloak for.

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at him and said, "I like it, that's all."

"Mhm, just remember, fish aren't in poor folk's pockets, Lizzie."

Translated to, 'I know you're going to pickpocket to get that bribing money'. And Elizabeth couldn't even deny it. She was going to steal money from others, something she hadn't done since she moved in with Jacob. But she had no choice, she wouldn't be able to give Vanessa any shillings and without money, for a fact, she wouldn't even look at her.

It was funny how things turned full-circle.

Elizabeth went from having nothing to everything just to lose it all again.

And she wasn't only talking about her money and living conditions.

She lost someone she cared deeply about.

Elizabeth shook her head and shakily sighed.

_Stop thinking about him, I can't start regretting my decision now._

/

After pickpocketing poor fellows in Whitechapel, Elizabeth banged twice on Vanessa's door to her brothel room in the Sanctuary.

"Hold your horses!" her syrupy voice called out in annoyance. Light footsteps emerged from the other side before the click of the door unlocked and it swung open, to reveal Vanessa in her usual white corset but her mask kept changing.

Elizabeth shut the door behind her and said, "What was it about Till that you wanted me know?"

Elizabeth didn't wish to share pleasantries, she only wanted for what she came for.

"Right into it, I see. You have a deadline or something? Anyways, Till's son, the one you killed you dumped his body in the river, was found recently. He's a holding a burial in a few days, many people are going, I heard."

Elizabeth said, "That means there is a possibility Forge is there as well."

"You're correct, this could be your chance to kill either or. Will you take it?"

"If the moment's right, I will, definitely. But I also want to talk to him in private, so we'll see how that goes."

Vanessa said, "Have caution."

Elizabeth nodded and grabbed the stolen pouches from her pocket and threw them on the bed, right beside where Vanessa was sitting.

"Did something happen between you and Jacob?"

"Why would you ask that?"

Vanessa trailed off, "It's obvious you stole these pouches. I never thought you had the need to, after all, Jacob is one of the richest men in London."

Elizabeth clenched her jaw and stated, "We've been having…issues."

"Understandable, he puts up with you. But, listen, Elizabeth, not many men like Jacob come around. He's not someone you should just discard."

Elizabeth knew this well but instead she said, "I appreciate your concern, but this is my business, thank you very much for your time."

And she left the brothel without another word.

/

During the past several days, after Elizabeth introduced Will to Frederick Abberline, he began to work closely with the detective. He was aiding the investigation in catching Mary Turner. Will knew if they found her, the police wouldn't be too kind with her but he didn't care.

He needed to see her again and get his answers about  _everything._ Why had she not told him she was a Templar? What else was she hiding? More importantly, why was she trying to kill Elizabeth and was she simply using him all alone?

All these thoughts were clouding his head and his judgement. He didn't know what to do when he found her – if he found her.

Frederick said, "Are you listening to me, kid? If you are just going to daydream all day, I'm not going to allow you to tag along."

Will shook his head out of his daze and muttered an apology. "I just have a lot on my mind, sir, it won't happen again."

"Good," he said, "because I have to ask you some things about Mary."

"Okay."

"You were her significant other, correct?"

"Correct."

"Were you intimate?"

Will choked on the water he was drinking. "I hardly believe that's a significant question!"

Frederick glared daggers at Will. It scared him, so Will nodded his head, "Fine. Yes, we did."

"Not too hard, was it? Anyways, what was her 'story'?"

"She told me she was an orphan, her parents died when she was little, and she was homeless ever since."

Frederick wrote this down in his notebook and said, "How did you two meet?"

"She was a Rook and I was too. We meant while on the job."

"Was? Not a Rook anymore?"

"She was a Rook before she disappeared, and I just left the gang recently."

"Okay, then, last question, if we find Mary Turner. Will you defend her?"

Will knew what the wrong answer was, so he gave the right one, even if it was a lie.

"No."

/

On the fifth of May, Evie and Henry were arriving from India to London.

Today was the fifth of May.

And Jacob wasn't looking forward their arrival, more so Evie's. Henry would be polite about how Jacob was fucking London up but not Evie, no, she was going to full-scape angry. He should have prepared himself.

But it was too late now, as he stood in the busy train station, awaiting the train from India to drop off his sister and her fiancé.

Alas, the train roared from the distance and the engine honked, it was coming to a stop. The train that held Evie and Henry. The green train squealed to a halt and the doors opened, and ironically, the first one out was a woman in dark green Assassin robes and a scowl on her face.

Evie had arrived, ladies and gentlemen.

Jacob hadn't seen her in over a year. He didn't know whether to go in for a hug. She wasn't looking willing.

"Welcome back to London, sister dearest," Jacob said with a fake, bright smile plastered on his face. "Where's Henry?"

In the cold voice she typically had when she was mad, she said, "He's collecting our bags. There's quite a lot, since we will stay for a while."

"Always welcomed by me, Evie."

She looked him up and down and asked with a raised brow, "How are you fairing, Jacob? I heard from the letter's how City of London was doing but I wish to know about you. Is there a valid reason you've been doing everything you've been doing?"

"Never one to shy away from confrontation, huh?

"With you, no, you always need a good talking to every here and there. Tell me, Jacob, have you kept your words with what I asked of you?"

Jacob said, "The piece of Eden is still hidden. The Templars have no idea where it is."

Evie dryly chuckled, "Templars have no idea where it is, do you not think that is why they made a truce with us Assassins – which I still  _cannot_ believe you accepted. Forge has his own agenda and using you was his first step."

"The truce has kept London in peace!"

"A peace with tension is not peaceful! I can't believe I'm related to you sometimes. Have you at least recruited any more Assassins?"

Jacob stayed silent and Evie huffed in frustration and placed her finger on her forehead.

"I have a lot of work to do. Here I come again, fixing your mistakes. God, if Father had seen what you've been doing."

"I can help you fix things," Jacob volunteered. Evie was really making him feel guilty right now.

Evie shook her head. "You've already done enough." Evie began to walk away before she said, "Oh and Jacob, I'm taking over as Master Assassin for the time being, until everything is normal again."

Jacob didn't want to put up a fight.

He had no fight left in him.

So all he said was, "You got it."

/

Evie Frye missed India but she couldn't become homesick now.

She had work to do.

Jacob completely fucked everything up and it was up to her to fix it.  _If she could_. Immense damage had been done and it was going to take everything she had to reverse it and make London the way she left it.

Why couldn't he follow instructions?

Nowadays, Evie felt more like Jacob's mother than his sister.


	20. Promise

**20: Promise**

_Thou shalt not steal_ was stated in the Ten Commandants. It was the seventh sin in which man shall not commit.

However, Oliver committed every single day without a thought to how he went from a saint to a sinner.

Ever since joining Clara, he became a boy different than he was a year ago. That intelligent boy attended Dame School intently, listened to his teachers though was bullied. Oliver was no longer that boy. Replacing him was a sneaky thief who eavesdropped on conversations and pickpocketed from the poor without thought to the repercussions he may face. Why did he do it?

The answer was easy. He had no choice. It was who he'd became.

He didn't want to go back to that slum underneath the train tracks. He didn't want to be cold in the winter. Starving for dinner. For once, Oliver was no longer skin and bones, finally gaining some meat on him. He liked these new things he'd acquired, and he'd do anything to not lose them.

He  _couldn't_ lose them. He'd kill someone if he'd had to.

Lizzy always treated him like an adult and Will always treated him like a child. Now, looking back, he appreciated his sister more. Oliver didn't know which he  _preferred_  but he knew one thing was clear. The world was a cruel, cruel place – Lizzy had told this to him once before, not that he had received any valuable information from it.

And although Lizzy and Will had two completely different outlooks on the world, he understood both of them. Lizzy was pessimistic, and Will was optimistic. It made Oliver think what he was then. A glass half empty or a glass half full thinker? Perhaps a mix of both, if that was possible.

His and God's relationship was like a crack in glass, waiting for a breaking point for it to completely shatter.

When would this breaking point be? Oliver wondered that. He didn't know but he had a feelings it would come with another sin.

The sin of murder. The fifth sin.

_Thou shalt not kill…_

_The innocent,_ Oliver thought afterwards.

Oliver decided he liked the Old Testament better than the new. Because no matter how hard she tried to repress these terrible feelings and dreams. For once in his life, he was on Lizzy's side, not his trusted older brother.

Oliver wanted Timothy Forge to die for killing Papa. It filled him with rage knowing the man who killed Papa was alive and Oliver was allowing him to walk free. It was time his death came.

And though he could never repent for these sins, one thing was clear; there was no going back for Oliver Jack Whittock.

/

"You didn't need to bring this," Elizabeth said with gratitude as she picked up the bag of food from Oliver. Oliver, after pickpocketing a few people, went to the store and bought dinner for his siblings. He bought cheese, bread and a gallon of milk. It was expensive, but Oliver had the money for it.

Will peaked his head out from the living room and asked, "Didn't need to bring what?"

"Oliver took the liberty to buy us dinner. Isn't that nice?"

Will raised a brow and looked inside the bag. His eyes lifted up at Oliver and asked, "Where did you get the money for all this?"

Elizabeth answered, narrowing her eyes at Will, "It doesn't matter how he got it, Will. The important thing is the thought."

"Says you," Will said, "but I don't want my little brother following in a thief's footsteps."

Elizabeth wasn't even hurt by his pathetic insult. "Please, better me than you. At least he can make a name for himself that way."

"I'd rather have a good name for myself than a bad name for myself-"

Oliver was annoyed at their constant arguing.

He shouted in a way Will and Elizabeth had never heard before, "Stop arguing! Can we please just enjoy this dinner as a  _family_?"

Shocked at Oliver's sudden display of anger, the two siblings nodded and sat themselves down on the table and began to unpackage the food, preparing dinner. Elizabeth passed Will the meat while she poured three glasses of milk for them. Oliver was watching them, with his fingers intertwined and a small smile on his face.

"How was your day?" Oliver asked while he took a sip from his milk.

Elizabeth shared a glance with Will before she said, "It was good, I went to the streets of Westminster and received some information about Till's son's funeral," Elizabeth took a sip and said, "I'm actually planning to attend."

Oliver asked while taking a delicate bite from his bread, "Will Forge be there?"

She responded, "I believe so, he was invited. It would look rather unpleasant if he didn't attend."

"Will you take that chance to kill him?"

Elizabeth was kind of confused at all these questions Oliver was asking but decided to answer them anyways. "I suppose if the moments right, I'll take it."

Will piped, "No plan, then?"

"No plan, just quick intuitive skills," she asked Will, "how about you? Find anything with Freddie on Mary's whereabouts yet?"

Will ruffled his hair frustratingly and muttered, "No, it seems like she vanished off the face of the earth. We have no idea where to even start looking for. We know she was affiliated with Templars but if we simply started to just ask them, they would have our heads."

Elizabeth ate her food with a stuffed mouth and after gulping she said, "You're right, it's a sticky situation. Have you asked around yet, especially about her fake identity?"

"We just started to do that. So far all we've got is that woman died three years ago."

"Don't worry, Will," Elizabeth soothed while earnestly looking at her brother, "everything we'll be over soon. I promise."

Surprised by her gentleness, Will's lips lifted slightly before he said, "I hope so."

/

On the day of Till's son's funeral, Evie woke up early as usual and had breakfast with Henry and decided to wait a bit until Jacob woke up.

On the food cart, Henry asked while placing a plate of eggs and sausage in front of her, "Slept well, darling?"

Evie sleepily pulled his collar down so he was at perfect height to peck on the lips.

She replied, "Ever since arriving here two weeks ago, I've been finding it rather difficult to fall asleep. Perhaps I'm just stressed about everything happening in London right now. It's not looking too good, Henry. There are practically no Assassin's in London. Jacob's gang is losing interest meanwhile the Blighters grow in numbers everyday. And most importantly, this idiot truce Jacob agreed to, I don't know how to get out of it."

Henry took a sip from his water and asked, "A truce between Assassin's and Templars. Who would have thought? But is it really a bad thing?"

Evie didn't know why Henry was trying to play devil's advocate. "There was never meant to be an alliance between us, why change that now?"

"Sometimes change is good," he said.

"No," Evie said while shaking her head, "not with Templars. Templars and Assassins can work independently in peace but they cannot co-interreact with each other. Too many morals and values mix and chaos will ensure. Think about it, tensions are already high."

Henry asked, "So I'm guessing you'll be doing something to break it up. What?"

"Simple, I'll calculate the movements of Forge and during his annual ball at the Palace, I will assassinate him. I don't have a doubt in my head he'd searching for the Shroud. If I don't fix Jacob's mess soon, London will be back to the way it was two years ago."

Henry eyes softened, "Evie, darling, perhaps you should be a tad nicer to Jacob. I believe somethings happened, he's not acting like his usual self."

Evie was annoyed by her fiancés remark. Jacob was her brother, not his. She could treat him anyway she pleases. Plus, she had every right to be angry at him.

"It was my fault," Evie said, "I should've never left London. I should've known Jacob wouldn't be able to hold London on his shoulders himself."

Henry smiled, "Everything will be fine, Evie, I promise. I've already started to recruit some Assassins. They're lacking skills as of now but with proper training, they'll be in top shape. And as for the Rook problem, give that task to Jacob. Allow him to focus on his gang while you handle the Assassin-Templar relations."

Evie nodded her head, "You're right, Jacob can deal with his little gang while I do the real work."

" _Evie_ ," Henry urged.

She sighed, "Fine, I suppose being a little nicer to Jacob wouldn't kill me. But don't expect me to be a ray of sunshine either. I'll take him with me today to the funeral. Though I wouldn't like to admit, Jacob may know a bit more information than me as of now."

"Jacob's been here the whole time," Henry said, "I know you're very nice deep down, Evie Frye, you have heart, something many Assassins lack."

Evie smiled and kissed him on the lips while mumbling, "If anyone has the heart, it's you, love."

Suddenly, the door to the cart swung open.

"Ugh, the negatives of the two lovebirds being back in the city," Jacob mumbled, entering the carriage with wild hair and rubbing his half-closed eyes.

He wore an unbuttoned shirt and his stubble turned into a beard because of his lack of inspiration to shave. As he neared Evie and Henry, a terrible smell waved through the air. When was the last time he took a bath?

Jacob went to the cabinet and took a bottle of ale. Evie frowned. She knew Jacob liked his alcohol but first thing in the morning? She'd never seen him do that before. Perhaps Henry was right, something was wrong with Jacob.

Evie offered subtly, "You might want to lay off the ale for later. I need your help today."

"My help?" Jacob ignored her comment about the ale, and began to pour himself a cup, "and why would you want my help, sister dearest?"

"I want to go to a funeral today get a look at my targets. I don't recall what Forge looks like and you do so that's why you need to come with me today."

Jacob twirled around with the ale in his hands and titled his head to the side. "Whose funeral is it?"

"Forge's second in command Templar, Till's son."

At the ending sentence, Jacob nearly choked on his drink and looked at Evie and said almost too quickly, "I'll get changed right now."

Then he left, leaving his drink behind with a confused Evie and Henry.

"You have an hour!" Evie called out as Jacob entered his carriage.

Evie turned to Henry, "That was odd, why was he so  _willing_ to go with me? His mood almost picked up instantly."

Henry shrugged his shoulders. "I have no idea, but I have a feeling you're about to find out."

/

After Jacob finished bathing, he stood in front of his closet door, shirtless looking for the cleanest outfit he could find. Although Evie never said it, he could tell just by her face he thought he needed a good makeover. She was right. Jacob hadn't bathed in over a week and he hadn't found.

But he wanted to look his best for his outing with Evie to the funeral because he had a feeling it was a good opportunity. An opportunity Elizabeth wouldn't miss.

It had been a month since he'd last saw her and fuck, he missed her.

Though he was depressed, he was desperate for her. More than wanting her back, he wanted to see her and know if she was alright. Without her, his days were long and filled with despair. He tried to get over her once, by hooking up with another woman but he just couldn't do it. It felt wrong, as if he was having sex with the wrong woman like a betrayal.

He was probably being foolish, but he wasn't crazy.

Because he knew, deep down, Elizabeth would come around eventually.

Jacob would make sure of it because he was her first kiss. A kiss she initiated.

He wanted to be the first to lay with her.

He wanted to be hers and he promised her he would protect her at all costs.


	21. The Funeral – Part 1

**21: The Funeral – Part 1**

Alone in her brother's room, Elizabeth stared at her reflection in the small mirror hung above the dresser.

Her face and body had changed –  _matured_  from what it was two years ago. She was no longer that eighteen-year old girl with soot permanently branded on her face with hollow cheeks due to constant hunger. Her face had improved. Those gray eyes weren't so dull anymore, her shoulder-length hair framed her face and her cheeks now had a rosiness to them.

The frail and too skinny body she had was replaced with healthy curves she never had before in her chest and hips. Elizabeth couldn't pass off as a boy anymore, her body developed into one of a 20-year old woman that was unmistakable.

A dagger in her boot.

Several throwing knives in her pockets.

Bullets placed in her coat jacket.

And most importantly, hidden blades in her sleeve, sharpened and greased. Ready for a clean cut that would be quick and easy enough to escape from. Exactly what she needed for today when she would finally kill the man who murdered her father and avenge her father after all this time.

Twisting the pistol in her hand, Elizabeth was reminded of when she bought the gun.

It was with Jacob.

One night, they were fighting Blighters and Elizabeth was envious Jacob had a gun to use and she didn't. So, that night, due to Jacob's insisting, they went to a store and after many trials of picking and choosing, and then picking and choosing again, they picked up a steel pistol with a six slot holder and an iron grip. It was the first and only gun she'd had and Jacob helped her pick it. The memory of that day was fond to Elizabeth, as it reminded her of his unwavering generosity.

_I need to stop thinking about him,_ Elizabeth thought to herself as she hid the gun away in her holster and pulled her hair back, pulling a few strands with it.

Bloody hell, no matter how many times she told herself that a day, she couldn't get him out of her mind.

Jacob was in her dreams, her nightmares, her thoughts. He consumed her entire life and he  _wasn't even with her._

This distance between them, it was almost like it made Elizabeth long for him even more.

And as much as it killed her to admit it; she missed him.

She couldn't deny it. She missed her partner and more importantly, her friend. Jacob and Elizabeth were the greatest of friends and with them 'breaking up', it had a much stronger strain on her than she would care to admit.

It almost made her regret rejecting him. Every day, Elizabeth wondered what would happen if she didn't, if after his proclamation of love, she'd said yes. Would they live happily ever after?

Or was this always in their cards together? To be apart?

Elizabeth sighed and looked down. She realized she didn't know anything about anything anymore.

Jacob probably moved on. He was handsome, charming and funny. Who wouldn't want a man like him?

_Apparently, Elizabeth_.

"Nervous, are you?"

Slightly jumping at the sudden voice bellowing from the other side of the room, Elizabeth looked behind her through the mirror. Her brother was standing underneath the doorframe, dressed in a brown petty coat with a fighting cane strapped to his tan belt. He was dressed ready to fight.

Elizabeth asked Will to accompany her to the funeral to keep lookout. It took her brother some convincing yet nevertheless, still agreed.

Elizabeth croaked, "Not at all," she brushed an imaginary strand of hair off her pants and said, "I'm well aware it won't be easy but impossible it is not."

"Well, if you don't have a clear shot, don't take it. Remember, we always have that annual ball at the Palace of Westminster to attend?"

Elizabeth raised a brow, " _We_? When did you take an interest in killing Forge?"

Will bit his lip and said, "I don't but he's a Templar and so was Mary. I want answers, is all."

Elizabeth nodded. She understood her brother's reluctance to kill Forge but she couldn't lie and say she cared not for his support. She did, so much.

"Then let's attend a funeral, shall we?"

"On with it," he responded.

Will and Elizabeth left their flat in Whitechapel, borrowed a carriage from the street and began their ride to Westminster.

Will took the rope while Elizabeth sat in the passenger seat, watching the streets of Whitechapel pass her.

She seemed…distracted.

Will raised a brow and asked her, "Are you looking for something?"

Elizabeth side-eye viewed him and shook her head. "No, I'm just thinking."

"Don't think too much," Will said seriously, "I feel like you do your best work that way."

A small smile elevated on Elizabeth's face. Was she as reckless as they thought? Well, she couldn't be more reckless than Jacob.

She wondered if Jacob was going to 'attend' this funeral as well. If he did, would Elizabeth say hello? Did she want to see him again? Something in her heart wanted to see Jacob but her head told her to stay away from him if she did.

He would only distract her even more.

So Elizabeth made herself a promise; if she saw Jacob, she'd avoid him.

After the thirty-minute carriage ride, Elizabeth and Will finally arrived to the estate Till resigned and where his son would be buried.

"Here we are," Elizabeth said as she narrowed her eyes at the entrance. Which of course, had guards so they would have to find another way in.

"I think we should scale the apartment building to gain a good lay of the land and then see our entrance there. What do you think?"

Will was quiet and mumbled, "Yeah, that sounds all right."

Elizabeth frowned at him and asked him while crossing her arms over her chest, "Gaining seconds thoughts, are we?"

"No, I just don't know what the point of this is. If we kill Till and Forge, so what? Does that give us any answers?"

Will was right about that and Elizabeth said, "I'm only targeting Till today, not Forge. You're right, I need more answers from him before I kill him."

"Fine, then, let's go," he looked at the building behind her, "scale that wall."

So the two oldest Whittock siblings scaled the building.

/

"Is that," Jacob muttered under his breath as he narrowed his eyes at the people crouched on a rooftop three buildings away. They were far and Jacob couldn't vividly see them but he could make their figures out. "Elizabeth? And William?"

Evie put down her binoculars and asked, "Who's Elizabeth and William?"

But before Jacob could answer, she followed Jacob's eyes to where they were crouched, whispering amongst themselves, while pointing at the funeral about to start down below.

"Do you know them?"

Jacob nodded his head. "Yeah, they're Frank Whittock's children."

"But I thought you said you didn't recruit any Assassins?"

He replied, "They're not Assassins. Trust me, I already asked them, but they refused."

"How could they refuse their lineage?"

Jacob shot Evie an annoyed look, "It's their choice at the end, sister, I'm not going to force them to do anything."

"Fine," Evie uttered while rolling her icy blue eyes, "then what are they doing here?"

Jacob scratched his beard and said, "They have their own personal vendetta against Forge."

"Why?"

"The popular belief Frank Whittock was conned out of his business wasn't true, he was threatened by his partner, Forge, a Templar hidden as an Assassin. Forge, I believed took his business, wealth and stripped him of his Assassin rank. Whittock was also killed last year, and the siblings presume its Forge. They want answers, as well as revenge."

Evie bit her lip and said, "I understand where they are coming from. Having everything taken from you is terrible. But Jacob, you must remember, whoever isn't with us, is against us."

"What are you even talking about?"

She bristled, "I can't allow the Whittock siblings comprise my mission. I have this plan in my hand and have everything worked out. If they either kill Till or Forge today, it will be faltered."

Jacob said unserious, "What do you want me to do? Stop them?"

"Yes, they're unexperienced, they'll get killed."

Jacob said, "They won't listen to me." And Jacob knew that for a fact. Especially, Elizabeth.

"Then I'll go myself."

Jacob didn't think his sister was serious until she started making her way toward the Whittock siblings.

/

Elizabeth eyes followed Till while he walked around, greeting guests and such while Will payed attention to the entrance, looking for the moment Forge would walk in. He was late, so they had to make every minute count.

"Why don't you simply throw a knife at Till? Done, he's dead."

She rolled her eyes at Will. "I have accuracy with a knife but I don't have  _that good_ accuracy."

"Till is too far anyways, perhaps if he came closer, I could try. But it would have to be one shot, one kill. I don't have time to aim again before his guards come after us."

"Don't worry about the guards," Will said, "I'll handle them." She really hoped he was able to.

Elizabeth nodded her in affirmation and said, "Brill. Now, we have to wait and observe."

So Will and Elizabeth peered down and observed the funeral with a vivid vision they acquired from Papa. The estate was decorated with black lilacs and everybody was wearing, about 50 people, all rich and snobby looking Westminster lads and ladies, were dressed in black. They were crying, probably fake sympathy tears for the dead. Pity tears.

Elizabeth thought when she died, didn't want this many people at her funeral who didn't care. She wanted it only to be the people she cared for.

Elizabeth watched the deaf Till walk towards the gravestone as he looked in the coffin of his son.

He was close, close enough to take the shot. But Elizabeth didn't, instead, she watched Till kiss his dead son's corpse on the forehead. The body Elizabeth and Will dumped in the river.

A shiver ran through her spine. She was going to hell. There was no way around it.

Beside her, Will asked urgently, "Are you going to take the shot or not?"

Suddenly, a feminine but tough voice erupted from behind them. The voice said, in a confident and commanding tone, "No, she will not."


	22. The Funeral – Part Two

**22: The Funeral – Part Two**

_Who the hell was she?_ Elizabeth thought as she spun around to face the owner of the female voice who snuck up on her.

It was a tall woman with blue eyes, brown braided hair and freckles scattered over her upturned nose. Elizabeth immediately noted her clothing and weapons – they belonged to an Assassin. And though the presence of this woman was enough to intimidate her, it was the man standing behind her that  _really_ caused Elizabeth's heart to pound like a drum.

It was Jacob. No smirk on his clean-shaven face that was expressionless. He was just looking at her and it made Elizabeth feel weak as she couldn't look him in the eye yet. Seeing him in so long was surreal, almost as if he wasn't there and she was just imagining him.

But that wasn't the case because a moment later, a small but ingenuine smirk lifted on his face.

And as she saw Jacob with the unidentified young woman, Elizabeth put the two together. They looked too alike to miss it.

Evie Frye was standing before her. Telling – no,  _commanding_ her to stop what she was doing.

And although seeing Evie was a little exciting, she was able to put a vivid name to a face, Elizabeth's eyes were glued to the person standing a little behind her. Elizabeth stared at Jacob and he stared back. It seemed they were looking at each other for hours before Will put a hand on her shoulder and pulled her back.

Elizabeth didn't know why her brother did that. Jacob wasn't going to hurt her. Yet Elizabeth couldn't say the same about his twin sister. She looked rather  _angry_.

"Elizabeth," Jacob whispered with unblinking eyes as he stared at her.

Will put a stopping hand on his chest as Jacob started to approach them. "Stand back, Jacob."

"What are you doing here?" Elizabeth asked, allowing Will to protect her from Jacob. Not that she noticed, she was frozen in place.

Evie put her hands bossily on her hips and said, "We're here to stop you from making a decision you'll regret."

Elizabeth looked at Evie like she was joking, when she realized she wasn't, her eyebrows furrowed, and she asked, "And why does that concern  _you_?" Who did she think she was to tell her what she couldn't do? She didn't even know this woman.

Elizabeth avoided bumping into her brother as she neared Evie.

It was obvious Evie didn't like Elizabeth closing in on her, so she neared her as well until their faces were only a few inches apart.

"Because, he's not your mark. And if you try to kill him, I'll have to stop you."

Elizabeth scoffed, "I'd like to see you try."

From behind, although he was a bit entertained seeing Elizabeth go at it with his twin sister, Jacob decided it was best to intervene. He quickly got in between the two girls and pushed a hand on Evie's shoulder, slightly pushing her back. He said, "I think that's enough, Evie. Elizabeth did nothing to you, leave her alone."

"Why are you protecting her?" Evie asked as she looked at Jacob and Elizabeth. Realization dawned upon her face, "Is this, is this the girl you wrote in your letters to me. Your 'partner'?"

"Ex-partners now," Jacob shrugged, shooting a look at Elizabeth.

Evie scoffed, "No wonder London became the way it is now."

"I beg your pardon?" Elizabeth said, trying to approach Evie once more but Jacob stopped her and held her shoulder's in place. It was Will who was supposed to help her. Why didn't Will? What was Will even doing? In the corner of Elizabeth's eyes, she saw Will stare at the funeral occurring beneath.

Jacob urged, "Let her talk, Elizabeth, she's trying to get a rise out of you."

"I can handle my own fights, thank you very much, Jacob," Elizabeth said, ripping his hands off her.

Evie became in-between. "I see what's going on here. It seems like there's something more than a partnership here. It…obviously became rocky."

Elizabeth looked at Jacob, who was standing close to her. Too close. But Elizabeth didn't mind, at that moment. Though she should.

"Is she usually this snarky or is it her time of month?" Elizabeth asked Jacob curiously. Jacob stifled a laugh as he looked at Evie, who looked like she was about to burst.

Evie started, "I cannot believe – you know what, I don't have time to argue with a child – "

"Will you three be quiet!" Will exclaimed, "Forge has arrived!"

Like pigeons lined on a wire, Will, Elizabeth along with Jacob and Evie crept to the edge of the rooftop and watched as Forge entered the funeral with his wife on his arm. They were like ants, very hard to make out. None of them had to ask who Forge was, their individual Eagle vision that was gifted to them aided them with that.

"Is that his wife?" Will asked as he leaned over the rooftop to gain a better view.

Jacob said, "Indeed. Her name is Octavia."

"She looks kinda familiar," Elizabeth muttered as she kept her eyes glued on the woman. Not even caring about her counterpart Templar husband. Elizabeth couldn't put her finger on it but she knew that she had seen her before.

But where?

"She does," Will said, just as focused on looking at this woman. Jacob shot them a confused look while Evie was busy surveying the grounds. He was wondering what about this woman was so odd to the Whittock siblings.

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at Octavia, trying to make out her identity. She had blonde hair that was pinned up but her back was facing them. She had a tall, lithe body, and walked rather elegant.

She almost looked like… _Rose_.

Rose from the picture. Elizabeth's  _mother._

Elizabeth eyes widened, as she tightly gripped Will's shoulders, enough to cause her fingertips to squeeze into his flesh. A wave of shock, and memories flashed through her like a tornado and she couldn't stop looking at the woman.

Rose –  _Mum_.  _Mother_.  _That was her mother._

But it couldn't be her, could it?

Almost as if Will just saw it now, he gasped, realizing it as well, "But, but that's i-impossible."

"She looks exactly like her," Elizabeth whispered, tears welling into her eyelids, "do you think its possible, even a small chance, that could be her?"

Elizabeth then took the picture of Rose out of her pocket. She kept it with her always. Elizabeth stared at it and shoved it under her brother's nose shortly with shaking hands.

"L-look at the picture," Elizabeth gasped, "they look exactly alike."

Will violently shook his head, as if he was trying to get rid of the notion that could be Mum on Forge's arms.

"It can't be," Will said in denial, "she died giving birth to Oliver."

On the side note, Elizabeth heard Evie whisper to Jacob, "What are they talking about?"

To which, Jacob ignored her and asked the siblings, "You think, wait, that's your  _mother_?"

Elizabeth said, "You likely think we're crazy. But did she, Will? We never saw her actually die, we only saw Papa take her to the hospital. Plus, since we were small children, there was never a grave, or a body for that matter!"

Will took his head into his hands and said, "This is absurd. I-I can't do this."

"But, Will-"

"That whore is not our mother!" he shouted, alarming a few people underneath that they all had to duck their heads. He said, "Fuck it, I'm leaving."

Elizabeth glared daggers at him and took a grasp on his arm and said, "You can't just leave! We haven't killed finished the mission yet. I need you!" It was true but Elizabeth needed him for comfort, not for the mission. She didn't know what to think and being by her brother's side helped.

Will said while eyeing the hand on his shoulder.

"Finish it yourself," then he ripped his arm away and began to walk away.

Elizabeth muttered, barely audible, "Prick."

Jacob from aside, neared her and asked, "Do you believe that could truly be your mother?"

"I don't know, It's possible. I truly think so. They just, t-they look so alike." Too alike.

"What are you doing up here!"

Elizabeth twirled her head to the incoming rooftop guards who were coming after them. One of them got close to Elizabeth but Jacob punched him. Elizabeth watched him pummel the archer to the ground while another was approaching to attack him on the back.

Elizabeth did the only thing she could; she stopped him.

Before allowing the man to stab Jacob in the back, Elizabeth unsheathed her kukri and fought with the man. His eyes glimmered in hope as they began to parry back and forth. Elizabeth's grip of the sword was strong – oh how she missed this.

After a defensive block, she threw his sword away and shot her kukri up his neck, falling through the other side. She took it back, and readied for another attacker. She saw Evie was busy fighting another man as Jacob cracked his braced knuckles and waited for another opponent.

Evie said, "We have to go, Jacob, we can't kill them all!"

Elizabeth agreed. They had to retreat before this got out of hand.

Jacob cockily smirked, "I'll take them all on."

Elizabeth said, "It won't matter how many you can take on before the funeral down below catches wind Assassin's are here!"

Evie shot Elizabeth a weird look as if to say,  _I dislike you, but I may like you a little more._ Jacob seemed to notice that, and he said, "I seem outnumbered here. Fine, let's leave."

Almost immediately, Jacob grabbed Elizabeth by her slim waist. Caught off guard, she tried to step away from him but before she was able to do so, she was slung in the air. Or so it seemed. Jacob was holding her while he used his grappling hook escape from the incoming guards to another building.

Elizabeth, though she seen Jacob do this a million times, she'd never done it with him. It was a feeling very, extreme. It was fast, daring and it caused her heart to race like it'd never before. Or perhaps that was because of how she was tucked into Jacob's body. And how she heard his heart racing as well.

After they landed smoothly on the parallel building, Elizabeth huffed, "Never do that again without telling me first!"

Jacob chuckled, "Didn't it feel great?"

Yes, it did. But Elizabeth wasn't going to give him the benefit.

"It felt all right."

"No thrill?"

Elizabeth wasn't in the mood for jokes. She just saw her dead mother walking on the world of the living.

How could she just pretend she didn't see that? Even seeing Jacob was not as shocking.

"I'm going to go now," Elizabeth said abruptly, beginning to climb down the ladder.

Jacob said, "Wait, at least allow me to escort you?"

"I feel like even if I denied, you still would follow me like a puppy."

He replied, "Very likely." He then became in step with her as they began to walk towards Whitechapel.

"Do you remember your mother?"

"Not well," she replied, "I was only seven years old when she died, and she wasn't typically around. But I remember her face, and, Octavia, or whatever her name was looked exactly like her. You probably think I'm mad?"

Jacob said, "Not that your crazy, but this entire situation surely is. I just, well, it doesn't make sense how she could simply become another person? And how do others not know who she is? Wouldn't that be a huge scandal? And why would she lie about being dead? Do you really think she'd leave her children like that?"

Elizabeth said, "I don't know! I know, it doesn't add up but it's knowing at my side. I feel like I must investigate this. I just wish to know who she is."

"What do you plan to do?"

"If anybody knows anything about Octavia, other than her husband, is Till. If I could just talk to him…"

Jacob eagerly said, "Then let's go. We'll attack him in his home tonight and get it out of him."

Elizabeth chuckled. "I'm going to do it alone. Like I said before, today doesn't change anything, Jacob. We're still apart."

"You can't do it alone."

"Why the bloody hell not?" Elizabeth said as she crossed her arms, "you think I'm uncappable."

Jacob sighed, "You know that's not it, love, because I am aware of how capable you are. I just think it'd be better if I came along, plus, your brother doesn't seem in the mood to tag along."

"I said no, Jacob."

Jacob became angry. "Can't you see I'm trying! Why are you so  _heartless_?" he added, "you're telling me you didn't miss during this time. Not a bit?"

She did. So much. But that wasn't what she told him.

"I didn't!" Jacob looked at Elizabeth's face and quieted, "Fuck, I don't understand you sometimes, Elizabeth. You're a shitty liar and a shitty lover. Yet I still find myself crawling back to you. It's this stupid force, even if I tried to break it, I can't.'

Elizabeth didn't know what to say to this, so she kept her mouth silent as Jacob, although angry, he still escorted her home in silence. It was at that moment she knew truly Jacob loved her back.

It broke her heart.


	23. Secret Letters

**23: Secret Letters**

After the funeral, Jacob found his sister already on the train, doing some reading. Greenie was nowhere to be found, as usual.

"Jacob, I've been meaning to ask you," Evie said as she sat with perfect posture on the couch, shutting her book with a loud slap in the process, "Is Elizabeth aware you are in love with her?"

Jacob couldn't help but roll his eyes. Placing up his jacket on the hanger, he inertly ignored his twin. He wasn't in the mood to talk to her. She was irritating him too much.

He began to exit the carriage without even looking at his sister when she said, "I asked you a question," she sung, " _brother dearest_."

"I heard you,  _sister dearest_ ," Jacob responded after a moment, "I thought you were the intelligent one, Evie. How did you not realise I simply chose not to answer?"

She scoffed, "Like how you choose not to answer to your duties?"

Jacob had enough.

He spun around and said, "What do you want from me, Evie? Do you want me to stop being an Assassin? Do you think I'm unworthy for that title?" he neared her as she jumped from the couch, "Is that what you think?"

"You wish to know what I think, Jacob? What I truly think? Well, for starters, I think everything  _we_  did for London two years ago,  _you_  threw it all away," she huffed, "and you know who I have to blame for that other than you and myself? The Elizabeth girl. While you too busy playing mum and dad with her, London was falling into shambles!"

"Then perhaps you should have never left!"

Jacob continued, his lip shaking a slight bit, "Perhaps you should have stayed in London with your only family instead of running off to India with Greenie. You  _left_ me alone with no guidance. But that wasn't what hurt, because believe it or not, you were my best friend Evie, no matter how many times we got on each other's nerves."

"Jacob-"

"Elizabeth wasn't distracting me, she was keeping me from losing my mind. She is the only reason London isn't in flames or in the hands of Templars at this moment. She took care of me when no one else did. And I want her back, more than anything," Jacob said hotly, "which means I am  _not_ giving up my position of Master Assassin. For London and for Elizabeth, I  _will_ fix things, regardless if you are by side or not."

Jacob finished, and Evie was speechless as he stormed out of the cabin. Little did he know a small genuine smirk lifted on Evie's face after he left.

She couldn't help but think  _Jacob was still Jacob_  and it made her realize how much she missed him and loved her brother even if she wasn't too pleased with him at the moment.

/

Day-drinking wasn't something Will did often but for this occasion, he felt it was necessary.

He didn't want to believe there was a chance that  _Octavia woman_  was his mother. Even if it was, he wouldn't believe it because he didn't think Mum would do something like that. Cheat on Papa, betray Papa, kill Papa. It was fucking absurd.

It was true, Mum was absent most of their childhood but she was still a good mother, as Will could remember.

She tucked them into bed every night, kissed his forehead goodnight and was kind.

How could she do such a thing?

The answer was simple; she couldn't.

She couldn't – she simply couldn't.

Unexpectedly two fingers tapped on Will's left shoulder. He turned around and was faced with a blonde boy with blue eyes. He resembled himself a little.

"Are you William Whittock?"

Will nodded, "Yes, and who are you?"

The unnamed man said, "I'm John Turner, Mary's brother. I heard of what happened at the jail and I want to help you find her."

John Turner. Will had never heard of that name before from Mary's mouth

Will slurred, "Mary never mentioned a brother."

John chuckled and scratched the back of his head, "We never, uh, had the best relationship."

Will took a sip from his drink, thinking about his relationship with Elizabeth. "I know what it's like. So, how do you where she may be?" Though he was still a bit skeptical of this stranger, not quite trusting if he was telling the truth about who he truly was, Will was far too drunk to think logically.

"Well," John said as he got closer to Will's ear, "she always would travel to Lambeth in the summers in a small house she squatted at."

Will squinted. That was true, Mary did mention that Lambeth house often. "How do you know about me?"

John replied, "Just because my sister never told you about me doesn't mean she never told me about you. What do you say Will, I know it sounds crazy, a complete stranger but I know you want to find her as much as me."

Will said, "Indeed," while downing his drink and sliding it away.

"Let's partner up then, William, and find Mary. We shall go to Lambeth and look for her there."

And because that was the only thing that he wanted to focus on. It was the only thing that made sense to him right now. Will stood up drunkenly and said, "Lead the way."

/

Elizabeth knew the layout of 34 Hillington like the back of her hand.

She knew the twists and turns, the guards patrolling patterns and where all the good hiding spots were. Overall, Elizabeth thought sneaking into Till's house and entering his office was going to be a piece of cake. She was going to succeed, and this time, there would be no unexpected causalities like last time.

She also had the night to her advantage, the shadows keeping her away from the light.

Crouching in a bush in front of the backdoor, Elizabeth utilized her vision to detect where the guard was. He was walking in front of her, so Elizabeth pressed her thin lips together and softly whistled. The alarmed guard looked around and began to poke around the bushes next to Elizabeth. As he neared her bush, Elizabeth steadied her forearms and as he pressed his face closer, she shoved the hidden dagger in his neck.

She pushed him behind her back and exited the bush, finally being able to enter the back door.

Obviously, the door was locked so Elizabeth examined the lock first. It wasn't too simple but nothing she couldn't crack. She picked out her needle and pushed it inside the lock, twisting around until she heard those three glorious clicks.

One down. Then two. Then finally three.

The door opened and Elizabeth silently opened it, making sure to be as discreet as possible.

To her dismay, there was a guard sitting right beside the door but luckily, he was fast asleep. Elizabeth decided to leave him alone and venture off further into the mansion. She hoped to find other sleeping guards like that one.

The estate was large with confusing hallways and turns. Elizabeth took the first one to the left and hoped it was the one where the office was located. It seemed she was right, because at the end of the hallway was a double oak doors, likely something important beyond them.

She crept up to it and alas, there was a guard there, an awake one.

Elizabeth quickly hid underneath the table cloth and through a sliver of the curtains, she watched the guard, circle around. He began to approach the table.

Elizabeth held her breath, fearing if she let it out, he would hear her. That would be bad. She'd wake up the entire house. Was he going to leave?

Suddenly, Elizabeth saw his feet underneath and heard his voice as he seemed to pick something up from the table.

He said, "These people buy the weirdest shit. Why does he need an antique hair curler anyways? He's fucking bald for god's sake." She had to stifle a laugh.

The guard with a sense of humour placed the hair curler back on the table and began to walk the other way. Elizabeth was able to let out the breath she purposefully had been holding.

When she was confident he was gone, Elizabeth stepped out of underneath the table and entered the office. It was locked, so she had to lockpick it again. After she was done, she entered the room and locked the door behind her.

The rectangular office had a desk in the center directly below a huge chandelier. It was clean-cut and an elegant room with light oak furniture. Yet she could care less what the room looked like, she only wanted to find the encrypting letters.

His desk was messy, with papers and letters scattered all over it. Elizabeth had not the foggiest where to start so she picked up the parchment over the others. It was a newspaper, a recent one, dating  _May 4, 1871._ She read the cover and tossed it aside.

It was only for his pleasure reading, she thought.

Elizabeth scrummaged through the other letters but found nothing, simply business proposals and contracts.

It was time she actually looked inside the desk. She bent down behind the desk and looked at the drawers, all with locks in them. As she thought before, she tried to unlock it but it turned out to be very difficult. It was impenetrable. How would she able to do this?

She knew whatever was in the drawers must be some information Elizabeth really needed.

Footsteps were heard from the hallway on the other side and Elizabeth did the only thing she could. She hid under the desk.

"Rope," a sweet voice emerged from the other side of the door, "where did we leave it?"

Elizabeth recognized that voice. It was the White Doe – Vanessa.

As Vanessa wiggled the key into the lock, Elizabeth stood up and Vanessa looked around the room and let out a small squeal.

"Elizabeth?" she said while clutching her heart, "you nearly gave me a heart attack."

Elizabeth asked, "What are you doing here?" She knew she was here to give Till some…love but why was she in his office of all places?

"What am  _I_ doing here? What are  _you_ doing here?"

"Isn't it obvious? And I meant what are you doing here in his office? Shouldn't you be upstairs, where the  _bed_ is."

Vanessa closed the door behind her and turned the light on to the office. Elizabeth kept it dark and instead chose a flame instead.

She looked bored, as usual, never embarrassed by her occupation. It was something Elizabeth admired about Vanessa, the way she didn't shy away from who she was. She was confident and never took shit from anyone.

"I came down to get a rope," she said, "we left it here last time."

Rope? But why did she need a -, oh, never mind.

Elizabeth scrunched her nose and said, "A little too much information for my pleasure."

Vanessa shrugged her shoulders, "You asked. What are you looking for anyways?"

What was Elizabeth looking for anyway? Was it proof Octavia wasn't her mother, or that she was?

"I just need to get in his desk drawer. You don't have the key by any chance?"

She shook her head in response and said, "No, but I do know where it is. Till keeps it in his jacket pocket, which conveniently is off at the moment. I could leave the bedroom door open and you could take it."

"Won't he see me walk in?"

She lightly laughed, knowing more, "Oh, Elizabeth darling, he'll be blindfolded and tied up. He possibly can't here you either because he's deaf."

"As appalling that sounds," Elizabeth said, "thanks, I'll be there shortly. You may want to head up now, before he starts getting…impatient."

Vanessa said, "Right," she grabbed the rope laying on the ground in the corner and said, "See you." She sashayed away, swaying her hips as she exited the office while turning the light off, leaving Elizabeth in the dark.

Elizabeth waited five minutes for Vanessa to get settled with Till until she ventured her way upstairs. As she exited the office, she walked down the wide marble stoned hallway, watching her dark surroundings.

Suddenly, she heard humming. A guard.

She waited for him to pass before she made her way upstairs. She crept, half knee on the ground. She was dripping in anticipation to get the key for the drawer. She wanted to know all the secrets it held. More so than everything else, she was curious what truly happened to Papa.

He kept his Assassin lineage from them, but what else had he kept from his children? What really did happen to Mum?

The guard moved in the opposite direction so Elizabeth snuck past him.

Till and Vanessa didn't talk a lot during sex, but through the sliver of the opening of the doorway, Elizabeth could see the entire scene play out. Till's two hands were tied to the posts of the headboard and he was blindfolded with a huge grin on his face.

Even if it was his son's funeral today, it seemed pleasuring himself wasn't out of the question.

Vanessa was starting to get frisky, kissing his bare chest, trailing her fingers down the nape of his neck.

Elizabeth didn't have time to pay attention nor did she wish to so instead, she opened the door with a creak and entered the room. Vanessa strayed her vision from Till for a split moment and nodded at Elizabeth. Elizabeth returned the gesture and ventured further into the room.

She spotted Till's jacket right away. Elizabeth didn't waste time as she rummaged through the pockets.

Finally, her fingers felt a cool metal and she took it out, finding it to be a set of keys. One of them had to be it.

"Thank you," Elizabeth said to Vanessa who was sitting a top Till, riding him.

She replied, unbeknownst to deaf Till, "No problem. Be safe, Elizabeth."

So Elizabeth went back to the office and went to the desk.

She slipped the key through the hole and opened it. Feeling accomplished and mighty curious, she began to look through all the papers.

It took a while until she found a promising one with valuable information.

It was a contract of some sort.

Elizabeth skimmed through it since it was many pages but as she edged around the end, the papers nearly fell out of her hand.

One sentence,  _Sign here if you agree to the 1000 pounds for your silence._ Till signed, so he was bribed for silence? But for what did he have to keep his mouth shut?

Elizabeth read and saw a name – two names she recognized.  _The identity, formerly known as Rose Whittock has been changed to Octavia Forge. Her past life is to be forgotten and if it were to be brought up, actions will be made._

That was Octavia.

That was Elizabeth's mother.

And she was alive.

And married to another man.

She left Papa to marry a  _Templar._

_What the fuck was going on?_


	24. Beginning of the End

**24** :  **Beginning of the End**

While writing a parting letter to his sister, Will decided it was best to leave out the part of him travelling with a stranger to find Mary in Lambeth. Will supposed he wasn't a complete stranger, he was Mary's brother and even if Will didn't fully trust him yet, he knew John was the key in finding the love of his life.

She was scared and running from the police, it made sense why she was hiding. Everyone in London wanted her dead. Will knew that whatever Mary did, she was forced to do. She would never try to kill Elizabeth just because of hatred. It wasn't something she would do. It simply wasn't.

John called, "Almost done, William? The sooner we get to Lambeth, the better chance we have at finding Mary before she leaves god knows where."

"Indeed, I'm finishing up," Will replied as he sealed the letter and left it on the table for his sister. It was out of whim leaving but he didn't care. There was proof she was there so he would go no matter what.

He could already see Elizabeth's face and to be frank, it scared him quite a bit. Elizabeth would think Will was being foolish, but he knew deep down that she would leave him be. Elizabeth cared for him, but she allowed him to live his life his own way. He knew she wasn't going to come after him and follow him. She was used to doing that. It was a very Will thing to do – to simply leave for a period of time with no communication.

But Will came back last time and he planned to do the same this time, with Mary by his side.

"Let's get on that train," Will said to John.

"She'll be there," John said, while tapping him on the arm, likely noticing how worrying he was, "the letter said it all."

Will close lipped smiled and nodded his head. "I hope so."

Though the entire situation felt…off, even for Will who never cared when things didn't feel right, he would crawl to her if he could. Killer or not, he loved her and there was nothing he could do to change that.

Then, they went to the train station and boarded the next train to Lambeth. A few hours later, the train stopped in Lambeth station and Will was more determined than ever.

He had his mind set on finding the love of his life and see for himself, get answers for himself, if really, during this entire time, Mary was a Templar, paid to kill Elizabeth and Will.

He  _hoped_ that wasn't the case but couldn't for definite, tell that was the truth.

He also hoped travelling with Mary's brother, John, would be a help but it turned out to be more awkward than helpful. John was nice man and so was Will, but after everything that went down, he found himself straying further and further from nice. Will wasn't nice because he found his will to trust people dwindle. He was looking for the deceit, not the truth.

Elizabeth always told him he was a naïve man.

Were his days of naïveté over?

Or was going to Lambeth with this stranger just another naïve move made by Will once again?

"So," John said as they walked beside each other, "I'm not quite sure where she is located but we could ask around bars and such. We can hold up her wanted picture and act like Bounty Hunters, that way we aren't looking associated as helping her."

"Sounds brill," Will said as they walked alongside to the nearest bar. So for the rest of the day, Will and John were going to stores, finding if Mary was in Lambeth or not.

**/**

Elizabeth stole the very first horse carriage in her sight after she snuck out of Till's home – after she found  _exactly_ what she was looking for. That was the contract found in Till's office which was tightly rolled in between her waistband.

This was the proof and evidence that she needed to convince herself and others that indeed, her mother was not dead.

Elizabeth ignored the concerned looks of the wealthy Westminster folks on their nighttime stroll as she drove hard and fast. Her destination was Will's flat which was located all the way across the city. Elizabeth had to share this information with him not only because he deserved to know but because it was also a pinch to her arm. It would help her realize that this was happening – that all of  _this_ wasn't some crazy dream she was having.

The contract Elizabeth found was a non-disclosure agreement which ensured the secrecy of Octavia's wife. It was also a bribe of a lot of money. All those who knew Forge's wife of who she really was – Rose Whittock, the wife of the Master Assassin Frank Whittock – were sold into secrecy when she betrayed Papa, left her children and home, and married a Templar.

"It's all too much," Elizabeth whispered to herself as she galloped over the bridge, nearing her brother's house.

The whole situation was absurd and unbelievable. It impacted her like never before. Her hands slightly trembled as she gripped the reins and her heart was pounding so loud in her chest, she swore the horse heard it. She didn't seem that affected when she first found Rose/Octavia because there was still doubt in her that hoped it wasn't true. Yet now…now she knows and there was no place for confusion anymore.

Although Elizabeth wouldn't show others how insane this made her felt the fact was she had never felt this lost ever before in her life. She didn't know what to do with this information, didn't know how to use it to her advantage, or if she  _wanted to._

What was she even going to do? Was she going to expose Octavia as her own mother? Was she willing to use this knowledge to kill Grand Master Forge? Oddly enough, Elizabeth was even questioning if she was ready to kill Timothy Forge.

Because now revenge wasn't on Elizabeth's top priorities, getting answers had beat it.

Rose was their Mum's name and to be quite frank, Elizabeth didn't remember much of her. She was too young and only remembered little things like how she would always braid her hair and how she played with a doll Elizabeth once had. Will's memory of Mum was much more vivid than hers since he was three years older.

It made sense why Will was so reluctant to believe she was alive.

He loved Mum and had the best parting memory of her and all of this, well, it was enough to break him down especially with what was going on between his lost girlfriend.

But it was true. Octavia was Rose. Rose was Octavia. They were the same person, not two different individuals who looked exactly alike. She was her mother. But it still was crazy how she could do that to them. Her own children.

What kind of person would do that? Least of all, her own mother.

Monster or not, Elizabeth still didn't know what she wanted to happen to her. Did she want her dead? Alive? Or did she want to talk to her?

Elizabeth supposed it didn't matter because whatever decision she came up with would have to be with agreement to her brothers. Which reminded Elizabeth that she would have to break it to her little brother that his mother was alive. That was not something she wished to do but Oliver was old enough. He had the right to know.

She'd figure it all out with Will and Oliver once she showed him the contract. They had to believe her.

Leaving the horse at the front of Will's house twenty minutes later, Elizabeth rushed towards the front door and opened it.

"Will!" Elizabeth called. No response.

"Will, are you home? Oliver?" Again, nothing.

Elizabeth began to look throughout the entire house, realising both of them were nowhere to be found. Elizabeth had remembered Oliver was with Clara, as he said in the morning. They had been spending much more time together and Elizabeth was glad for it. Clara turned him from a boy to a man.

But Will wasn't home and he was here in the morning. Where had he gone? Drinking? He had been doing a lot of that lately.

But before Elizabeth could go to the local pub, looking for her drunk brother, she found a note lying on the table. Elizabeth picked it up and read;

_Elizabeth,_

_You're wondering where I am. I went to Lambeth in hopes of finding Mary there. Do not come looking for me. I will be fine._

_Will_

The idiot, running away from his problems as usual. He was trying to find a Templar, one that tried to kill his sister by himself. She didn't understand why he couldn't simply let her be. He had much bigger issues like his dead now alive mother. Elizabeth knew love made people do crazy things, but this was beyond explanation.

Oh, Elizabeth was going to kill him when he came back.

/

"London needs us now more than ever. It hangs by a single thread that can break any moment and without the Rooks, it will not be saved. I need all of you to be on your top guard these next few days. If you see a Templar…" Jacob Frye trailed off when he saw his twin sister along with Henry approaching the Rooks. Because he was anxious they were going to say something to them, Jacob announced "Regroup in ten, Rooks!"

Shortly, the fifty Rooks listening to Jacob began to disperse and Jacob stepped down from the fence he had climbed on in order to elevate his voice. He walked towards Evie and Greenie with an annoyed look on his face. Lately, he felt as if they were trying to ruin everything Jacob was trying to build.

"I see you haven't given up on your Rooks," Evie said, "I'm happy to see it."

Jacob replied, "They are my gang, I would never lose hope in them," he turned to Henry, "Greenie, it's been quite some time. I feel like ever since you came to London, I've barely seen you."

He chuckled, "The reason for my disappearances can and will be explained."

Evie nodded her head and Jacob said, "Oh?"

"I didn't tell you this before but we have been invited the annual ball at the Palace." Jacob was shocked. A year ago, this was the same ball where Jacob and Evie had infiltrated, found the Shroud and killed Starrick. Now, they were  _invited_ as  _guests._

He asked, "Are we going?"

A small smirk etched on Evie's sharp face. She said, "Of course, it is where our 'showdown' as you would call it, will occur."

Jacob raised a brow and said, "Showdown? And what showdown is this?"

"Where Forge and Till die at the ball. I take Forge, you take Till." It was very sudden, even for Jacob.

"You're kidding," Jacob chuckled, "That ball is  _tomorrow._ We are not ready, the Rooks don't know, we don't have weapons smuggled in. It's impossible, Evie. I thought you out of all people would know that."

"I took care of all that these past weeks," Evie said, "I just…didn't tell you because you were so caught up with the Elizabeth drama but I can see you're ready now, brother. All we have to do is kill those two men and London will be back in our hands again. Then, we can start re-building the city together."

Jacob said, "That's not the sort of thing you keep."

"I know, I apologize but I had to. Just tell me if you are in or not, Jacob because I need you. I cannot do this alone."

Jacob thought for a moment. Although he was pissed off at his sister for keeping this from, he was also pissed off at himself for not noticing she and Greenie were planning this the whole time. It was true, he was thinking too much about Elizabeth and not enough about the state of London. But that still didn't change the fact he loved her and the drama she brought with her was not made up simply by her, it was because of her family. Her crazy, secretive family whose father was Master Assassin and whose mother was the wife of one, and now the wife of the Grand Master Templar. What the hell?

Jacob could only imagine how confused Elizabeth was and he wanted to help her. Help her  _and_ London. Who said he couldn't do both?

"On one condition," Jacob said, "I bring a date."

Evie said, "A date? Why would you want to impress some girl-  _no,_ you cannot bring her."

Greenie interrupted, "You know Jacob, I think that is a wonderful idea. The girl is basically an Assassin after all and she knows how to handle herself very well. I'm sure she would be an asset.

"Henry!" Evie exclaimed.

Before Evie could protest, Jacob said as he began to walk away, "Thanks, Greenie, I appreciate it! Count me in!"

Then Jacob was off to find his Elizabeth.

/

The same afternoon Elizabeth discovered her brother had ran off to Lambeth in order to find Mary – whatever her real name was – she didn't expect Jacob Frye knocking at her door. Elizabeth hesitated whether or not to open to door to him. The last time she spoke with him, harsh things were said and the last thing she wished to do was break down.

But it was Jacob, Elizabeth remembered, he wouldn't judge her. So after a deep breath, she opened the door and found Jacob standing there with a piece of parchment in his hand. It looked formal, with a red stamp embedded on it.

"Elizabeth," he said by way of greeting, "can I come in?"

Elizabeth merely nodded as she moved away from the door as to let him walk in the house. She crossed her arms over chest and quietly said, "What can I do for you, Jacob?"

She didn't like how polite and formal they were talking to each other, as if they had  _nothing_ before.

"I know I'm probably the last person you wish to see you right now but I wouldn't come if it wasn't important."

Elizabeth wanted to protest that in fact, he was the  _first_ person she wanted to see right now but she decided to keep her mouth shut.

"Well, I received an invitation to the ball at the Palace of Westminster," he handed her the letter and Elizabeth began to read it, "It is formality to invite me as the truce is still intact. Which means I will be going, so will Till and so will Forge…even his wife will be present I am sure."

He asked after a moment, "I was wondering if you would like to attend. And trust me, Elizabeth, this is not a date. It is the opposite of."

"The ball at Palace of Westminster? You want me attend with  _you_?"

"That kind of hurt," Jacob chuckled, "You don't wish to know if that woman is your mother or not?"

A sigh escaped Elizabeth's lips as she said, "I already know she is. I snuck into Till's home last night and I found this letter," she took it out her coat jacket and passed it to Jacob, "it all makes sense now. She betrayed Papa because she fell in love with a Templar.

"What?" So Elizabeth explained how she snuck into Till's house that funeral night and found the contract of silence regarding her name change and husband change.

Jacob eyes were wide and terrified. "I can't believe that. It's, it's terrible. How could she do that to you?"

Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know but I want to know why. It can't be because she fell in love with Forge. There must have been another reason. I just- I just don't know what it is."

"Then ask her. It'll be the best chance, at the ball, that is. Love, you want answers and you can get them, if you go."

Elizabeth smirked. "Is this your sneaky way of trying to take me to the ball with you?"

"You think I'm that crafty?"

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, thinking perhaps that it wouldn't be too bad of an idea. She said, "I know you are. Besides I'm terrible at dancing and I don't even own a dress."

"Well, I don't know what to do about the dress but don't worry about the dancing. I'll lead you through it."

Elizabeth restrained a bigger smile. A smile near Jacob came so naturally, it was hard to resist. "So that ball night, Forge and Till die, correct?"

"That's the plan, and Octavia too if you desire." Was that what she desired?

Elizabeth replied, "I want to talk to her first, not just stab her. See why she did what she did. I'm angry, Jacob, trust me, but I don't know if I have the heart to kill my  _own_ mother, no matter how cruel she is."

Jacob softly said, "I know. I didn't mean it that way. It wouldn't be easy for anyone. But is that a yes I am hearing?"

Elizabeth only asked, "What time will you pick me up?"


	25. Lambeth Pearl

**25: Lambeth Pearl**

As the more days spent in Lambeth passed, Will was beginning to believe coming here was pointless. It felt as if Will and Mary's alleged brother John, had searched this entire borough. The two of them went to every store and every bar with a wanted poster with her face on it. Along with a drawn image of her face, it read;

_Mary Turner – wanted for murder._

_Report to the nearest policeman if seen._

_Hefty reward will be given._

Nobody had seen any sign of her around here apparently.

Will and John had went door to door to almost every house in the area. They were hoping one of the residents knew where Mary was or even better, if one of houses they knocked on also was where Mary was hiding. However, this had no such luck in finding her.

The letter she sent was simple and Will was looking for any sort of hidden clue that gave away her location. He didn't know if he was being too silly or if she really didn't wish to be found. Nevertheless, it felt like Will and John had searched all of Lambeth for any trace of her. And it was like she disappeared off the face of the earth.

Will prayed she wasn't dead. It had been long and hard few days, but he wasn't going to give up.

Still, he couldn't ignore something that was on his mind. A dire question; was Mary even  _here_ in Lambeth?

Will had been questioning the letters authenticity after an odd incident occurred with John. Will asked to see Mary's letter again and when John searched for it, he said he apparently  _lost it._ That meant they couldn't read it again and had to go by what was read at first. It was all up to memory at that point.

But in reality, Will was checking again to see if Mary truly wrote this letter. He was so distressed and annoyed at the time John came into the picture, he didn't have time or the energy to question his identity.

Will wanted to believe whatever was easiest.

There was also another odd incident. When Will asked John questions about Mary and at first, his answers lined up perfectly but now, looking at hindsight, his answers were vague. Not enough detail or examples. It was like he was trying to trick Will into thinking he knew Mary when he didn't.

It would seem too ironic to say that Will was doubting John's intentions immensely now.

John and Will were sitting an empty tavern, downing drinks after another full day of searching for Mary but finding nothing. The only people in the bar was the burly looking bartender and a few hooded figures in the back.

However, other than those two figures, the bar was completely empty.

Suddenly, John spoke, "You know Mary and I never got along when we were younger. She was always loved more by Mother and Father while I was  _nothing_ to them. I was too prissy they said. Too pretty to be boy. Not a good fighter."

Will kept silent as he spoke, questioning why he was telling him this. John said, "So when we turned eighteen, I asked for a task, to redeem myself in their eyes and they gave one to  _both_ of us. My parents are…well, can I say are foolish people at times" he looked Will straight in the eye, "they gave me the easy one, gave Elizabeth the hard one."

"What?" Will cautiously said, not feeling right about this anymore.  _Elizabeth?_ His sister?

John stood up abruptly and said, "You are really fucking foolish, you know that, right?"

Will said, "I beg your pardon-" but before he could finish his sentence, his mouth was gaped open when the bartender aimed a pistol straight at him.

Will knew this was a trap. John payed this bartender to kill him. He was going  _kill_ him

"What are you doing," Will slowly said, trying to stay as still as possible, "what is the point of this madness?"

John cleaned the dagger with a napkin and suddenly his accent was much posher as he replied, "You must really love my sister, yes? To follow a complete  _stranger_ who had a fakeletter signed by her. And completely believing it too. I was made aware she even tried to kill your sister, yet you still would die for her. Loyal lover, it seems but not such a loyal brother."

"I-I don't."

Will was at a loss for words.  _Loyal lover. Un-loyal brother._ Will had taken a side, his girlfriend's side, a possible Templar's side rather than his younger sister who had taken care of him all of his life. He loved them both yet looking back, Will realized he was wrong to choose to believe Mary over Elizabeth. Elizabeth had never given him a reason to be untrustworthy and though it was still shocking to hear Mary tried to kill her, there was a part of him that still didn't believe it.

"Where is she!" Will exclaimed.

John said, "Safe, at home, locked away as she should be."

"What do you want from me?" Will asked, beginning to survey his surroundings and any possible escape he might have. He noticed those two hooded figures were no longer sitting in their spot. "Are you even her real brother?"

"I am here to do what  _she_  couldn't do," John responded, "and yes, you idiot, even though I often doubt my relation to her because of how foolish she can be, she is still my older sister. Which is why Mother gave me my  _task_ after hers because she was born first."

Will was utterly confused. He asked, "Task? What task are you talking about?"

John ignored his question. "I finished my task the first month she gave it to me. My sister on the other hand, well, she was given two bloody years to kill the Whittock children and still couldn't do it. Hell, she really is the absolute worst at everything. Cannot do a single thing right."

Will felt like he was punched in the stomach even though John was standing a few feet away. He couldn't breath and he felt as if he was going to throw up any second.

Task. Kill Whittock Children. Two years.

She…did try to kill Elizabeth. Was she trying to harm him and Oliver as well?

"N-no, you're lying, she hasn't tried to kill me," Will shakenly said, "Mary l-loves me."

John smirked. "You still call her Mary. Well, allow me to inform you she goes by another name at home. I'm shocked you haven't already figured Mary Turner was a fake name.  _Mary_ is her middle. Her real name is Elizabeth _,"_  his cruel smile even deepened as he saw Will's face which had gone stark white, "and my name is William. We are the children of Templars Octavia and Timothy  _Forge."_

Elizabeth and William – Mary and John. Forge.  _Forge._ Templars.

Templars who had the same names as Elizabeth and Will, children of  _Assassin_ s.

This was _..._

_What kind of sick joke was this?_

The bartender neared Will and the gun was closer to him. John said, "Wait, I want to know something else before he dies," he got a tiny bit closer but not enough for Will to slash at him, " _My task to become a Templar was to kill your father._ "

"You bastard!" Will tried to get at him, but remembered the gun was pointing at his skull. But before anything could happen, the two hooded figures disembarked, one was behind the bartender and one was behind John.

The taller of the figure threw a knife at the bartenders head and he fell back, crumpling to the ground while the shorter of the figure threw a glass at John's head.

But this wasn't enough to kill him so Will took the knife he had and almost instinct, he shoved into John's stomach. John's eyes widened and Will began to struggle fighting him as he began to choke on his own blood.

"Y-you will pay for this!" John said before his eyes turned white.

Will looked at the two hooded figures who helped him. Soon they took them off and Will almost fainted.

It was Oliver, his brother and Clara.

"What are you two doing here?" Will exclaimed, pulling them aside.

Clara said, "Saving your bloody butt, that is. And I was hoping for more of a thank you."

"This was too dangerous," Will said frantically, "how did you even find me here?"

Oliver responded, "That letter you sent. I knew what you were doing was stupid and knew you were going to get into some type of trouble. I had to save your ass."

Will said, still quickly, "Yes you did little brother. Is Elizabeth with you? Did you hear everything?"

Oliver nodded. "Elizabeth and William Forge. It's rather creepy. They have the same names as you and you know what that means right?"

Will knew. "Elizabeth was right. Mary/Elizabeth, whatever her name is, she is a Templar and she is the daughter of Forge. And she was tasked to kill us."

"But she didn't," Clara said, "if she really wanted to, she would have done it now. There is more to this than meets the eye."

Oliver bristled, "It seems you are forgetting she tried to kill my sister."

Will responded, "I know but I don't understand anything at all anymore. I-I just need to find Mary - Elizabeth. I believe she is at the estate Forge resides in. I have to see her."

"We are coming with you!" Oliver stated, "you need all the help you can get. Plus, you seem hysterical at the moment."

Will said, "No. No. I need you two to go to Whitechapel and find Elizabeth and tell her  _everything._ Tell her to meet me as soon as possible. Please do this for me, brother."

"Of course," Oliver responded, "we are on our way. Let's go Clara. See you soon, older brother."

"See you soon, little brother," Will responded.

So then Oliver when to Whitechapel to find Elizabeth Whittock while Will went to Westminster to find Elizabeth Forge.

When did things all become so confusing?

/

An hour later, Will was in Westminster, behind the Forge's estate.

Will found sneaking into Forge's mansion easier than he expected. The owners of the house were at the ball and without them, the guards were too busy fooling around. As they were making stupid jokes, they paid no attention to Will as he blended into the greenery, scaled a back wall and climbed into an open window.

Sneaking into Forge's mansion was easier than he expected. The house owners were at a ball and the guards were fooling around, barely paying attention to Will as he made his way inside.

He was looking for Mary – he wasn't going to call her Elizabeth anymore.

He made his way to the upstairs and lo and behold, a metal door barricaded Will as he opened the door with they key he stole from John's dead body.

"Will!" Mary exclaimed as she jumped off her bed and into his arms. Will held her and cherished her touch that he missed for so long. He wanted to smash his lips onto hers but he couldn't. Because if Octavia truly was his mother, then that would make them related.

Half-siblings. It was wrong.

"You lied to me," Will said as he pulled apart, "about  _everything_. You were sent to kill me to become a full-fledged Templar and you never told me. Was everything we had fake then? Was this all some sort of pretend game to you?"

"No! At first it was but after a few months, I fell in love with you! I knew I shouldn't have but I did, I did and nothing after that was false. I love you, William. I love you."

Will bitterly said, "I know you do. But you tried to kill my sister."

"It was orders by my mother. I couldn't not. Look at this room, Will, look at how she has kept us occupied. Me and John. Speaking of which, he didn't bother you, did he?"

Will didn't know what to say so he stayed silent.

Mary realized while looking at they. "You have his key. How did yo-"

"I killed him." Mary closed her eyes for a moment before she said, "I-I understand. He was a prick anyways."

Will said, "You're a Forge. You're a Templar."

"And you're a Whittock, an Assassin," said Mary. "But that shouldn't change anything, should it?"

Will said, " _Elizabeth. William._ Why do you two have the same names as us?"

"I know I found that odd too, but I-"

"We could be half-siblings," Will said, "we could have the same mother."

"What? What are you talking about? That's, that's absurd! I would know if my mother was pregnant with Oliver, wouldn't I? That makes no sense. Where did you get this idea from?"

Was there a possibility, after all, Elizabeth was wrong and Octavia in fact, was not their mother?

"I don't know, love, I'm confused and tired but I want answers."

"There was only one way to find out," she responded, "Let's go attend a ball, shall we. I need to have a word with Mother and Father."


	26. The Palace Ball – Part One

**26: The Palace Ball – Part One**

The evening of the ball at the Palace of Westminster, Elizabeth realized she was in no way shape or form prepared to attend. This was no ordinary event where Elizabeth could enter acting and looking as her usual self. Instead she had to arrive as a completely different woman.

Replacing an unattractive and stubborn Assassin would have to be a posh and polite upper-class young woman.

When Jacob was at the flat yesterday, he took her weapons of choice with him. Evie's fiancée, Mr. Henry Green was smuggling her kukri and pistol into the Palace tonight along with the twin's gear as well. Jacob still advised her to strap a dagger to her thigh anyways. He had said, exactly word for word, " _Just in case, Liz. You never know when that hidden dagger may be the difference between life or death,_ " a mischievous smirk lifted onto his face before he suggested, " _and I think it would look quite appealing. It adds a bit of mystery."_

Elizabeth glared literal daggers at him for that however that still didn't stop the small chuckle that escaped her lips shortly after.

Jacob also informed Elizabeth of the plan last night which seemed simple enough. Evie's target was Nicholas Till who she was going to dance with and drink with during the ball. Technically, only Till would be doing the drinking of alcohol since Evie would actually be drinking  _juice_. While staying sober, Evie would continue to get the man drunk and when drunk enough, she would lead him upstairs. The guests wouldn't question Till's intentions – they already know what kind of man he is. Deaf Till may not have the hearing he needs but he is capable of getting his other needs fulfilled _._

Elizabeth could vouch for that honestly, after all, that night she saw Till and Vanessa fucking still replayed in her nightmares.

In reality, Evie would rather die than touch Till in that regard. By luring him into the bedroom, Evie would strangle him with a rope until he was unconscious, not dead. Mr. Green would help kidnap his sleeping body from the window and locate Till elsewhere from the palace. Though Elizabeth would have taken the first chance to kill him, Evie didn't wish to kill Till just yet. Jacob had it would too suspicious for the two highest ranked Templars to be murdered the same night. They were already walking on thin ice to ensure that this truce would not turn into a bloody war.

Which meant Till was not going to greet death today – only Timothy Forge was.

As for killing the main target, that was  _all_ of their responsibilities. While Henry was transporting Till's body elsewhere, Evie would join the ball with them. Since Forge was less familiar with her, it was Elizabeth and Jacob posed as a couple who would distract him and his wife. In the meanwhile, Evie would put a lethal poison in Forge's wine glass that would cause him to suffocate an hour after consumed.

Easy enough, right? Well, there was a bit more difficultly to it than Elizabeth first saw.

The Assassin's were already aware Forge would never accept a drink from them. The drink must be given to him by his wife. Octavia/Rose - Mum _,_  was the only person he would deem safe enough to take a glass from but Evie ensuring that the poison was put in the right glass and given to the right man could fall down to  _luck._ If that poisoned wine was drunk by anyone else, that would cause many problems to the plan. They were not there to kill innocent people, Jacob had said. Elizabeth wondered how innocent Templars and rich snobs could be but didn't argue with him.

It was a small vial of poison that was strong enough to only kill one person. There was no place for mistakes or mishaps, the poison was a one chance opportunity. Elizabeth, Jacob and Evie all had to do their part to ensure it was drunk by Timothy Forge only.

The plan wasn't bad, in fact, Elizabeth liked it. It was discreet enough to not cause enough commotion and it pleased everyone. Jacob was able to kill the Grand Master Templar after so long, Evie was able to claim herself as co-Master Assassin and Elizabeth was able to seek questions  _and_ revenge. It was a death she wished to witness – the death that would avenge her Papa. It was also answers she wished to receive – answers that would explain why her mother left Assassin Frank Whittock and her children to marry a Templar and start a new family with him.

It was a great plan, but Elizabeth would never admit it to Evie. They didn't get off on the right foot when they first met and no way in hell was Elizabeth going to apologize first. She didn't understand why the female Frye didn't like her, but Elizabeth decided that was an issue for another time. Especially  _another_  day.

Even though Elizabeth was mentally prepared for the ball, she was definitely not physically prepared. Wardrobe and hair-wise, Elizabeth was utterly lost. She didn't know what to wearto the ball. She didn't even own a dress or heels or jewelry. Her hair was too short and tied in low pony and her clothes were Assassin robes.

Elizabeth didn't think  _any_ of this was suitable for a ball.

In all honesty, Elizabeth couldn't care less what she looked like at the ball. However, she was afraid if she didn't present herself pleasantly, they would kick her out which was not according to plan which meant she needed a complete makeover.

There was only one person Elizabeth trusted enough to do this and fix her hair and dress dilemma. Lucky for her, Vanessa wasn't busy when Elizabeth knocked at her brothel door at six o'clock. After a few short knocks, Vanessa swung open the door with a quirked thin eyebrow.

She asked, "Elizabeth? What are you doing here?"

"I need a favour to ask of you, an important one," Elizabeth said, "It's quite urgent."

Vanessa welcomed Elizabeth in with a waved hand. She replied, "You are lucky my next appointment is in an hour. Come on in, darling."

While Elizabeth entered her room, Vanessa asked her, "Did you end up finding what you were looking for in Till's office the other night?" Elizabeth was reminded Vanessa was there to help her when she snuck in Till's home and found the incriminating contract. The proof that Octavia Forge was formerly Rose Whittock and Elizabeth's shitty biological mother.

"Indeed, I did," Elizabeth said, "I found everything I was looking for."

Realizing Elizabeth didn't want to talk about it, Vanessa knew to change the subject. She asked, "So what is the favour you ask for?"

Elizabeth explained, "I'm going to the ball tonight with Jacob and I literally have nothing to wear. I don't know how to act like these people, the least I can do is look like them…"

Elizabeth stopped talking because Vanessa looked as if she was going to fall into a fit of giggles. She asked after a moment, "Is there something wrong?"

Vanessa held her hands to her mouth and laughed, "No! It's just funny. And cute. You're going with the handsome, rugged, charming Jacob Frye? Does that mean you lovebirds have made up?"

"Please never call him that again to me, it is rather disturbing," Elizabeth said, sitting down on the vanity chair, "and we are not going as a date, we're going as partners. It's a mission – strictly professional."

"He'll still enjoy your company," Vanessa said, "and I can bet a pound you will enjoy his."

" _Vanessa_ ," Elizabeth hissed, "there will no enjoying of company!"

Vanessa said with a smile, "Sorry, Elizabeth. This sexual tension between you two is killing me. Will they? Won't they? Who even knows at this point? You both are stubborn people but it's getting ridiculous. Why can't you just admit you're in love with each other?"

Vanessa was right.  _I am in love with Jacob,_ Elizabeth thought.

She loved Jacob as she would her family and friends,  _partner_ but it was more than just deeply caring for him, which she still did. Elizabeth realized she was in love with Jacob while she was parted from him. The connection between them was intimate and passionate. She didn't just love Jacob, she was in love with Jacob. Elizabeth didn't know how to clearly explain the difference, but she knew in her heart he was the only man for her.

When he was gone, she missed him dearly. Jacob was in her every thought, her every dream. With him not by her side, Elizabeth felt as if she was missing a piece to a puzzle and she couldn't function. She was not herself without him.

Elizabeth knew she made a mistake by leaving him and telling him those harsh things. But it seemed there was a God since Jacob forgave her, like always. He didn't deserve to be treated that way, yet he saw past her utter bullshit and still forgave her. Because he loved her as well. The only thing Elizabeth wanted was to run to him, tell him she was sorry and hold him. And she would never let go. She did that once and realized it wasn't what she desired.

Jacob belonged to her and Elizabeth belonged to him. Elizabeth would muster up the courage to tell him everything after this was all over…

"I'll discuss Jacob later as I am already running out of time," Elizabeth said, pointing to her black coat, pants and leather boots, "I need to leave at  _seven_. Which means if you don't do my hair all frilly and dress me in a huge dress, I will be going to the ball looking like this."

"That's less than an hour! Why didn't you tell me before?" Vanessa said frantically, rushing towards her closet. Vanessa opened her closet which revealed a flurry of tinsel, frill and white. She really liked white. They didn't call her the White Doe for nothing, it seemed.

Elizabeth said, "I can't wear white. It's not my wedding, I can't look like a bride. Do you have anything else?"

"Yes, I have this blue one. It will look fantastic but I also have this pink dress that will look great on your figure-"

"Great. Let's try it on," Elizabeth interrupted.

"But which one?" Vanessa asked, holding both with an indecisive face.

Elizabeth waved her hand impatiently, "I don't care. A dress is a dress. As long as it gets the job done, it doesn't matter to me what colour I wear."

"Blue it is then," said Vanessa as she took it out. It was a big blue dress with a corset in the back. It looked pretty but very tight. Elizabeth didn't know how she could fight in it as she felt restricted just by looking at it.

Vanessa said, "You like it? Good. Now strip."

Elizabeth did as told, taking off her garments, leaving her in only her undergarments. Vanessa helped her into the blue dress and after some struggling, Elizabeth strangely felt free and lose.

She said, "This doesn't feel as tight as I thought it would."

Vanessa laughed as she said behind her shoulder, "I haven't even tied the corset yet, darling, then, it's going to be tight."

Oh.

Elizabeth waited for the corset and when she did, she heaved a sharp breath of air. God, that was so fucking tight.

"Too much, Vanessa!" Elizabeth heaved, while sucking in her ribs as much as she possibly could.

She simply replied, "Beauty is pain."

Elizabeth said, "Good thing I don't care for it then. Loosen it." Vanessa sighed and loosened it a bit, allowing it to be still be tight but gave more room for air to reach Elizabeth's lungs. Elizabeth looked in the mirror. The blue dress hugged Elizabeth's slim waist and pushed up her breasts while flowing around her hips. Elizabeth never thought that she would say this, but the dress was beautiful.

Elizabeth said, "I cannot promise to return this dress to you in one piece." If things tonight were fine, the dress would be fine. Elizabeth was opting to return it one piece, as that would mean everything would go as planned.

Vanessa shrugged, "It's all right. Not one of my favourites anyways and it looks better on your figure."

Elizabeth smiled as Vanessa began to fuss with her hair now. "I can't believe you're actually helping me."

"Why," she said, "I always help those in need."

She replied, "Likely, but I haven't encountered those type of people in my life often. I didn't even offer you money."

Vanessa dropped her hair for a second and looked at Elizabeth in the mirror. "Is that what you think of me? A gold-digger only?"

Elizabeth shook her head and turned around abruptly.

She said, "No! It's just, I haven't had a lot of…female friends. I don't think I've had many friends to begin with, being completely honest with you. I suppose I don't understand what it means to do things for others without expecting anything in return. To be able to talk about things without feeling as if you gave too much of yourself away. To be able to spend time with someone without fearing they are going to betray or harm you. These things are all things I have feared while growing up in a poor household where I had to take care of my family. I was a child but forced to be a cynical woman. Perhaps all I want is for others to understand that is not who I am, that I am more than a thief. I am Elizabeth Whittock, proud daughter of Frank Whittock."

"Elizabeth!" Vanessa squealed as she hugged Elizabeth from the back. She could feel tears on her skin. Her hug was almost as tight as the corset she was wearing. "Thank you for telling me that. I'm glad to call you a friend."

Elizabeth didn't care what Vanessa's occupation was. She didn't care if her friend was a prostitute, she was still her friend. Her first girl friend and Elizabeth liked having her friendship.

"Now let's finish that pretty face and hair of yours."

Vanessa worked hard and was gentle but made Elizabeth look the best she could possibly look. And bloody hell, she looked different.

"There," Vanessa said as she fixed a tiny hair out of place, "you're all done. Jacob is going to die when he sees you."

"I'm not doing this for Jacob," Elizabeth said with a small smirk. It was true, all of this was for the ball and presenting the appearance she needed to be, but she couldn't help but think of what Jacob would think. He would like it, that was for sure.

Vanessa grinned, "Of course, but still, tell me if he does or not."

"I will." Elizabeth rolled her eyes and looked at the clock, it was half past seven. She was late and Jacob was already probably waiting for her at the flat.

Elizabeth awkwardly stood up, still not used to the uncomfortable feeling of wearing a conscripting dress. She turned to Vanessa.

"Thank you so much, for everything. I couldn't do any of this without you."

But instead of Vanessa saying you're welcome or smiling, she did the opposite. Vanessa frowned.

"Elizabeth, what type of mission are you doing at the ball?"

Elizabeth gulped. She didn't want to tell Vanessa that she would be killing her highest paying customer. She would find out soon enough. No, it wasn't the time. It was better to ask for forgiveness than permission at the moment.

"If you're worrying about me, I'll be fine. I promise everything will be fine."

She started, "However-"

"Vanessa! Don't worry about anything," Elizabeth said as she hugged her friend once again. "Thank you dearly, I must go now. Jacob is already waiting for me likely."

"Okay," Vanessa softly said, "See you soon?"

Elizabeth nodded, "See you soon." And with that, she left the brothel.


	27. The Palace Ball – Part Two

**27: The Palace Ball – Part Two**

After leaving the brothel, Elizabeth received several odd stares as she walked along the grim streets of Whitechapel. The poorest people in London lived in this borough which included Elizabeth for most of her life. She no longer fit in that category because she stumbled upon Jacob Frye – well, she supposed before  _he_ stumbled upon  _her_ and gifted her a life of safety and comfort she never dreamed of living. The looks she received from strangers ranged from 'what in the bloody hell is she wearing?' to 'what is she doing in Whitechapel of all places?'. Elizabeth was even afraid she was going to get  _robbed_ which was utterly ironic considering the pick-pocketer would be getting pickpocketed.

Many men even catcalled Elizabeth with a crude whistle and said things such as 'pure girl' and 'pretty little thing' as she passed them. That was entirely new. Although it annoyed Elizabeth, she oddly felt more surprised than angry. She'd never been catcalled in Whitechapel before considering she was either mistaken as a teenage boy or she was walking alongside Jacob. She knew no man – no matter how drunk or brave or  _both_ – would so much as stare at Elizabeth in that regard with the Master Assassin by her side.

Just as she was thinking of him, when Elizabeth managed to get to the flat without any harm, she realized Jacob was already here to escort her to the ball. Elizabeth was late by only half an hour but he likely arrived here earlier than seven. She felt silly now for being so late.

The fanciest horse carriage Elizabeth had ever seen was waiting on the front street, no doubt meant to transport them to the Palace of Westminster. The driver was waiting patiently atop the white horse however Elizabeth noticed Jacob wasn't sitting inside the carriage. Instead, he was sitting on the top steps of the stairs with his fingers laced over his wide knees. Jacob was dressed in a smart tailored navy waist coat buttoned over his maroon dress shirt. His pants fitted his muscular legs perfectly and were held up by a bronze belt. His signature top hat was missing, allowing him to showcase his dark locks that were slicked back away from his eyes.

Suffice to say, Elizabeth caught her breath when she took sight of him. Jacob was as handsome as ever and simply by looking at him, Elizabeth wondered why someone as beautiful as him could love someone dull like her.

When Jacob finally looked up and noticed Elizabeth from the sidewalk, his eyes visibly lit up. His eyebrows shot towards his forehead as he sunk her in, starting at her brown tendrils of hair falling, to her plump breasts rarely on display, to the cinched waist, to the hem of her blue skirt.

When he realized he had been staring for far too long, Jacob gulped the knot down his throat and stuttered, "Y-you, uh, look quite different."

_That's really all you have to say,_ Elizabeth thought a bit bitterly. She sarcastically said, "How so? I didn't notice much change."

"What? How did you not-" Jacob said, realizing she was only kidding, "that sarcastic mouth of yours is going to give me an anxiety attack one of these days."

Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders as she approached him with confidence. "I thought you were finally getting used to it."

Jacob jerked his head to the side and said with a mischievous grin, "With you, darling, there is no 'getting used to'. I am already prepared to expect something new every day."

She replied nonchalantly, "Adds a bit of surprise and excitement to your life, doesn't it? Anyhow, I'm sorry I am late. I truthfully had no idea what to wear and had to ask a friend for help."

"Friend?" he asked curiously, "do I know her?"

"I surely hope not."

Elizabeth remembered Vanessa's occupation and there should be  _no_ reason why Jacob should know her unless – she forced herself to stop before she jumped to conclusions. Elizabeth always had issues trusting even with Jacob, but she must give him the benefit of the doubt if she ever wished to begin a life with him.

Jacob said, "Either way, I'll have to thank her sometime. You look absolutely beautiful, Elizabeth. And don't worry about being late, Evie is already there and taking care of Till," he added, "and, I understand it takes time to look that wonderful."

"Thank you," Elizabeth said earnestly. "Same to you; you cleaned up well too. Is that a fragrance I smell?" She noticed a strong scent on him. It smelled earthy, like rosewood and rain.

"It's a special occasion. It's not every day you attend a ball  _and_ poison your enemies," Jacob alleged, holding his hand out, "which reminds me, we should get going. Are you ready for tonight? I know it's – I know a lot that will be happening. I simply don't want you to think I'm forcing you to attend. There is still time – "

Elizabeth interrupted him, "I've been waiting to see this for this for the past two years. Forge, Octavia, Mary, all of these bloody people are all somehow linked to me and my family. But I still don't fully understand how or why. My father kept many secrets from me; the Assassin lineage, his business with a Templar, my mother becoming 'Octavia'."

"I understand," Jacob stated, "you feel like you've been lied to."

"All of my damn life," she agreed, "me and my brothers deserve to know the truth. Before this, I wondered if it was better off  _not_ knowing and allowing bygones be bygones but I realized I can't."

Jacob said, "I couldn't imagine you ever letting something like this go. You're too stubborn."

"Which isn't good, I've come to understand," she said, "I just know I would live the rest of my life not knowing who I really am – who I was really meant to be. I-I suppose I simply don't want to be lost." Lately, Elizabeth's life felt like she was walking through a unknown area and asking people for help but no one is giving directions.

Jacob put a warm hand on Elizabeth's chest, right above her heart and stated with furrowed brows, "Whether you find the truth or not does not affect your character. Who you are now is who you were always meant to be. You aren't perfect but there is nothing about you that needs to change. Nobody labels you as the 'daughter of an Assassin', not as 'poor factory girl', not as the 'pickpocket' and surely not the 'Master Assassin's plaything'. You are Elizabeth, just Elizabeth who was many talents but more importantly has a big heart."

_Oh, Jacob._

Suddenly, Elizabeth wrapped her arms over his shoulders and hugged him. She rested her chin on his shoulder and instantly melted into his embrace. It reminded her of past times when things were perfect. There was always something so familiar with Jacob and whenever she was in his arms, she felt safe and vulnerable at the same time. He would protect her, but he would also bring out something in Elizabeth that scared her – love. And as Elizabeth clutched Jacob back, hugging nearly as tight as her corset, a small tear dropped from her left eye.

"I could never be lost with you. You are my compass, my friend and also the love of my life," Elizabeth whispered in Jacob's chest, "I love you, Jacob Frye."

Jacob jolted at this and slightly pulled apart, so he could see Elizabeth's face and just as he was doing so, he gently touched her lips. It was a mere brush, asking for permission and Elizabeth accepted by pressing her lips onto his.

Their first kiss in the fight club was aggressive and sloppy, almost as if they were fearing of running out of time. However, this time their kiss was gentle and slow, knowing that this was not the end, but the beginning of something that would last for time. Jacob was the first to retract and pressed his forehead to hers and said, "I thought I would never hear those three words from your mouth. I love you too, Elizabeth Whittock."

While their faces were only a few inches apart, she felt his hot breath on her lips. Jacob realized a tear fell on her right cheek and he immediately wiped it away with his thumb, pressing a kiss to where her eye was, then one to her eyebrow and wrapped his hand around her hair and brought her head to his chest.

She started, "I'm sorry for everything."

Jacob looked taken aback when he shook his head and said, "No, no. I'm sorry for not understanding."

"What do you have to be sorry for," Elizabeth replied, "if I recall correctly, I'm the one who ruined everything. I shouldn't have left you and said those harsh things. If I could turn back time, I swear on Papa's grave, I wouldn't have run away when things became complicated. I would have come back sooner."

Jacob took Elizabeth's small hand in his. It was rough but was warm and felt comfortable. Elizabeth was glad he offered first because she wanted to hold it but didn't know if she was ready to offer it first.

Jacob said, "Elizabeth, love, there's nothing to forgive. This past month things have been absolutely crazy in your life. I understand why you wanted to be alone. I get it all, truly."

"But Jacob-"

"Stop," Jacob said, putting his finger on her lip, shutting her up, "that's enough. You don't have to explain yourself. Don't make me feel more like arse."

Elizabeth whispered so quietly because his face was so close. She said, "I don't deserve someone like you, Jacob. It's as if you're too good to be true."

"That's funny because believe it or not, I ask myself the same question regarding you," Jacob said.

"You're terrible," Elizabeth giggled, leaning closer and putting her hand on his cheek. She said, "I know we have things we still need to talk about but now is not the time. We're  _very_ late."

"We are already late; a few minutes won't hurt Evie."

Elizabeth said, " _Jacob_.  _Later._ We have to focus right now, get this all over with."

He said, "Right.  _Finally_."

"We'll take a break. Get away from everything and let your sister watch over London, just for a little while," Elizabeth replied, "just the two us."

Jacob smiled widely like a child at this. "Like a honeymoon without the marriage. I love that idea. And I have just the place in mind of where we will be going."

"You do?"

Jacob wrapped an arm around her shoulder as he walked with her to the horse carriage. He said, "It's strictly confidential. You'll find out when we get there."

Elizabeth took his hand while getting atop the carriage and rolled her eyes. "What are you going to do? Blindfold me?" Jacob went in after her and pressed a finger to his clean-shaven chin.

"That's a brilliant idea," he said, "perhaps some rope too for my alleged kidnapping?"

"Kidnap tomorrow. Palace Ball now," Elizabeth shouted to the driver, "to the palace!"

The driver muttered, "About bloody time," and began to gallop through the streets. Elizabeth was worried her conversation would distract her from the plan tonight but strangely, while looking at her laced hand with Jacob's, she understood that this distraction was also her reason of focus.

/

It was nearly impossible for Jacob to unglue his eyes from Elizabeth that night.

When Jacob first met her, he truthfully didn't think she was attractive at all considering he thought she was a teenage boy. However, when Jacob realized she was indeed female, he saw her beauty even with all the dirt and soot on her face. Her eyes weren't the brightest nor was her smile dazzling but the hardness and sharpness in her face reeled him in. Along with her confidence, there was something about Elizabeth that made her a mystery Jacob had to uncover. When her eyes lit up rarely or when that occasional smile poked out, Jacob fell in love all over again. Every single time.

Especially now he knew she loved him back, Jacob felt as if he was invincible.

"Here we are!" the driver of the horse carriage called out as he slowed down to the front of the Palace.

Jacob looked at the Palace of Westminster which was bombarded with bright lights, loud music and hundreds of well-dressed rich people. They were all having the time of their lives for now until a death ruined a party.

As Jacob helped Elizabeth down from the horse carriage, she tugged frantically on the hem of her dress and lifted her top. She nervously grabbed Jacob's arm and asked, "Do I look fine? I feel like the dress isn't on properly anymore."

Jacob said softly in her ear, "You look better than fine," he suddenly pulled her waist towards his torso and said, "every man in that Palace is going to look at you like a piece of meat."

"Wonderful, exactly what I wanted," she replied, squirming in his grip but only to become comfortable, "you do understand I will not be dancing, right?"

Jacob laughed and said, "I don't think you have a choice. It's easy, Elizabeth, just follow my lead and you'll learn the steps quickly."

Elizabeth shoved him ever so slightly before they reached the guards who asked, "Names?"

"Jacob Frye," he said, "along with my guest."

The guard didn't even have to look through the book for his name. They were already aware they were invited so all they did was check for weapons. Thoroughly, to add. And when they found nothing, they said, "Good to go. Have a lovely evening."

"Jacob Frye?" called out a deep voice from behind Elizabeth and Jacob. "Is that you?"

The pair turned around to be met with the one and only Timothy Forge, the exact same man they were planning to kill. Jacob pulled Elizabeth back as she slightly neared him and said to Forge as he shook his hand. It was firm, intimidating. "Forge. It's been quite some time. I assume everything is well?"

This was the first time Elizabeth had seen Forge up so close. He was rather ugly…and fat. Nothing like she expected. Why did her beautiful mother leave Frank for  _this?_

"Yes, business is well," he whispered, "Business and members are growing. What of you and the…?" When he realized Elizabeth, an innocent girl who may or may not be aware of Assassins and Templars was standing next to him, he shut his mouth.

Jacob said, "Oh, she knows. Timothy Forge, this is Elizabeth Whittock. Elizabeth Whittock this is Timothy Forge."

Elizabeth reluctantly went down to a curtsy that Vanessa taught her and said through her teeth, "A pleasure, Mr. Forge." However, Forge looked shaken as he realized who Elizabeth was. Who she was the daughter of.

"I uh, yes of course," he said, obviously distracted by her presence. Elizabeth wondered what he knew her has. Daughter of former Master Assassin, Frank Whittock or daughter of his wife, Rose Whittock. Or perhaps both. "I knew your father, Frank Whittock. We were partners, your father and I, owned a steel empire in London. It is unfortunate that things fell apart and ended up the way things are now. He was an honest and loyal man. I think very highly of him."

He was going to play daft, was he? No mention of Papa being an Assassin and Forge being a Templar. No mention of Rose leaving Papa to marry Forge and becoming Rose. No mention of how he  _murdered_ Papa. He said in a higher-pitched voice, "Tell me how your father is now? Whitechapel treating him well?"

"Whitechapel treats no one well, not even the dogs," Elizabeth scoffed, "and I'm shocked you didn't know. My father was murdered two years ago in his home."

He stuttered, "I-I'm sorry to hear that." He was clearly beginning to get nervous, sweat glimmering on his forehead. It became glaringly obvious he was guilty.

"Two years and his killer has yet to be identified. I'm ashamed to say it's quite pathetic. I've been searching all of London ever since."

He said with a shrug, "Well, these things take time."

"I suppose," Elizabeth said, "but I won't stop until I find him and give him what he deserves." At that, Jacob slightly tightened his grip on her arm. Elizabeth mentally cursed, knowing what she said was too much. She tried to play it off, "Is your wife here? Miss Octavia?"

Saying her name simply caused Forge's eyes to widen. Elizabeth realized he knows that his wife is also Elizabeth's mother.

"I-I – yes, she is here. Somewhere here, likely busy. Uh, well, the first dance is to begin soon," Forge said quickly, "I should find my wife. It was nice meeting you Miss Elizabeth and seeing you Mr. Frye."

Short after, he walked away so fast it was almost jogging into the crowd.

"So fucking guilty," Elizabeth said as she put her hand on her hips, "he couldn't stop stuttering."

"I know," Jacob said, "he was rather obvious – "

Music began to play from the orchestra while an announcer stated, "Ladies and gentlemen please join the floor for the first dance!"

_Oh no_ , Elizabeth thought and Jacob almost reading her mind, said, " _Yes,_  come, let's show them some Assassin spirit."

"I don't know about this…I'm afraid I will look foolish."

"Just follow my steps and you will do well. Don't you trust me?"

Elizabeth huffed after a moment, "I'm going to regret this," however still took Jacob's outstretched hand towards the floor.


End file.
